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MA(MII.I..\\ ^ (-(t , I ivm iJ 

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i)isc()\ i.Rii.s AM) .\I)\'i:m iKi:s 
IN iiMi:r 


SVKN H 1:1)1 M 




VOL. 11 

^tto gorfe 


jill r:,-'.ii reterviJ 

C'irVRlGHT, ir^'vo, 

Sel ui) aiui tlc^lrolyi.eJ. ruhli,h.;d Uccuiilber. l.jOQ. 

J S. ('usliinf , .1 — 111 I \i ilk A; ^ulith Co. 
N„r«u..,l. Mii>... f.s A. 


c: 1 1 A p r K K X X X v 

Im.mikkl) Monks 








To the Outi.i.t oi' thk Chaktak-tsangpo in thf Rraiima- 

MniAMKn Isa"s Death .... 







A Peep into Nepal 


•^ ■-'^^.(*w|.PHW!l|^95uipswirr- 




In Sk.\i;( II or iin; Siiii;i i; or iiik likAiiMAi'UTRA 


CHAl'ri'.R XL 11 1 

'l"nr. SorKu: of rur. S\( !;i.i) Rivki,' — A DirAKTURF, 


A XuiiiT o.s ^L\^A^Al•;ll\VAI< 


Mori-; Lake Voyages 

A Stormy Voyage over iiie Hoiv Lake . 



On the Roor or itie (Io^m'e Munaitry 


Ot R Lam Days on 'IVo-mavang 


AliVENTIKKS ON L ANr, \ k-l .-o 




The Soiiu e 01 1 i;i: ,sr 1 1 fi 




VI i 



( »M Mam Hum 


I'llK DlSeOVKKY OK Tilt: SoUkCK OF THE I.Mirs 

A Resolution 

A Xf.w Chapter 









"v THE Roof of the World 



ortv Degrees pelow Zero 








DK.ATir OF rllK I.A^T \'ktkran 




Tiiiu rv I ' \vs OF Storm 



Advf.xturf.s of Ouksflvks and Puppy in Nagrong 



Through tiif, Hig:ii.ant)s of Bongba 



TsoNGPUN Tashi 



BrPTsxNG-rsAXGrn, onk of iiif i.argkst Rivers of the 

I Ikakf of 'I'ir.KT ^21 


In the RoBiiKRs' Paradise 



Aprii, 24 


His ExtEi.i.ENLV Tin; (; of Saka 



rfr"~'-?^M^'^- . >A^j^i>i4k^' 



Kamha Tsenam, Father of the Robbers 


TiiF, Seventh Crossing of the Trans-Himai.aya — to the 

Heavenly Lake u he Throne Mountain . . . 374 


• 3^4 

Another Journey across the White Patch 

The Last Days in Unknown Country 

The Trans-Himalaya 




Simla 415 

INDEX 425 


m^^ 'mmMi 










S\cn Hrdin ........ 

Ilcriiii;'^ CrdttiMirnr tin: ('l);\nL;-l;i-I'c)(l-la . . . . 

KolHTt and Kahsan;; liy the Ice on thu Way to llic ('lian;^- 


A I,hacl>c decked with .Mani-Stcines and Trav LT-Strcanicrs 
194. .\(jniads sonth of TaiLjo-^'an;,'!! .... 

Menilicant I.ama hlowin;; on a Ihunan Hone 

'I"il)etan Hoy ......... 

Kuhi-j;an^ri from ('ani[) 201 ...... 

'l"ar-o-,:,'an,L;ri from a Hill near Camp 150 . 

The t'homo-uchcjni,' (Jroiip from the Kinchen-!.-', May 23 


Luiulup's Sfiuadron. 'I'o the left a part of 'l\ir;4i^-'4angri 

Camp I ;o . 

201. Lundnpion horseback to the left) and his Ketini;c pr 

nie from proceeding to the Dangra-yiim-tso 
20i, 203, 204. Targo-gangri from the South . . . . 

20:;. 'I'lic Shm-ii-tso. with Targo-jrangri in the Uackgroimd . 
2of). ( >n the ('[iper Kaga-tsangpo ....,, 

207. .Vngdeivla ......... 

208. Chomo iichong from the East 

209. 210. Angden-la, a I'ass on the Trans-IIimalava 


an is on the Way to the Angdenda 

212. ('homo-iichung 

213. Panorama from the Ding-la. The I!rahmai)utra X'alley and 

the Himalayas in the liackgroimd .... 

214. liegirar at Ta.shi-geinbe 
























-' ! ' ' • 



. Noun- 'ril)rtaii nt llic Month of the Chaklnk-lsnn-po 

. Waiulcilii- Lain., uitli a Wc.kIcm Clove in his Hand su. h 
as is nscd to protict the Hands in the I'n.stration 
l'il^riniai;e ronnd tlie Holy Mountain Kailas 

. 'i'lie Coijjse of Mulianitcl Isa 

. Mnhaniul Isa's Funeral I'r.jeession 

. -•-•'.), _-2r. The Interment of Muhainedj, a 
Unman at the Mouth .,f the thaktak-tsan^po in th: 


Tibetan of S.ika 

I.ama in Saka-d/onj;; 

22G. 227, 22,S. Tibetan Hoys and CJirls of Saka am 


Woman of Nyiikii 

Two Tihetans 

The (iova of Tuksnm 

C.irl at Tasa-^'uk 

\'ie\v from the Kore-la towards the South-West 

(iuiam Ra/nl's 'J'ents in Cartok 

Landscape in Tpfier Nepal 

A Chhorien in Nepal .... 
(;ronp of I'ibetan Women .... 
Women in the Milage of Namla 

Inhabitants of the Villa-e of Namla 
Lama in my Boat 

Loadm- the Hoat with Boxes on crossing the Brahmapntra 
ranornma of Kubi-gan-ri and the Lan-ta-chen (ilacier, with 

thu Source of the Brahmapntra (from a height of 16,453 

feet, July 13. 1907) 

^^t. 2 15. The Mountains at the Source of the Brahmaputra 
i i!»;aiis on the Bank of the .Soma-tsangpo 
'■roup of Natives of Langmar 
!<obert in the Boat 

Sheep-shearing at Tugu gompa on the Manasarowar . 









1 10 
1 10 
1 18 
I -'4 






- ? > 

-* .■^ 5 ' 

2 III. 







The find (if the Lake risiii;:; frniii Tao-mavan" 

Tciiiple Hall of tlie l.akc-CJnd df I'm) iiia\aii^' 

('hcMrcsis Iiiiajje in 'riii,'u-;;oiii|ia . 

'I'iie I.hakan;,' Hall in 'rii'^U{,'onipa 

I.aiiia uit'i I'rayer-I )ri'm .... 

I.ania before the 'J'einple Door in TiiKU-goinpa 


Interior of the 'I'einple. 'I'ti^'ii 

A lireanur. Lama in \'an;;;;()-;;onipa on NLiiiab. 

■|'he old Nun in \'an;,'<;o-^'oiiiiia 

The Holy Lake Manasarowar from Tngu-f;onipa, 

in the I!ackj;round 

lioy on the I'pper Tsan^'po .... 
The young Prior of Langbo-nan . 
Tenii)le N'essels in Chiu-gonipa 
Two Cliildreti in .Shigatse .... 
K alias behind Nyandi gonipa 

My Tack Sheep 

I'art of Kailas 

Kailas from l)iri-pu ..... 
Contluence of the Two .\rm.s of the L.dus 
Tibetan Female rilgrinis at Kailas 
I'he C;ova by \vho>e help the .Source of the Ind 

covered (seated) and Tibetans at Kailas . 
Cnilani Razul beside Bales of Chinese IJrick-T. a 
Tibetan Tent ...... 

Monastery of Gar-gunsa .... 

Images at Chushut 

The Policemen from Simla .... 

My Boat on the Indus 

Ladaki Women 

280, 281. At the Monastery Door in Tashi-^ai 

Gartok and Ladak 

Dancing Pilgrim Women in Chushut. a \ iu.i^e 

back ti Ladak . 


ith Kaila 

s dis- 


1 niv wav 

1 46 



1 88 






IK.W.s II1M.\1..\\A 

- >' ' 






. C' 



~ ."> ' 

. (•<• 




jS',. { )|,| W,, II, ,111 

^■'■> |. I..i:ha III ( liii-,hiii ....... 

.■>!;. I III ilic \\.i\ Id r.inksc ....... 

-••■'''• I" ll.i lliiii.> \ .liir;, oil tllr u.n I,, I..i,l;i|.. 
-••'■i;. I lie 11 v. IImI .. , ,111(1 Mill,' , ,11 I »iu-lili 

J.S.S. knllrll in \\ llilor I lies., 

-•S.;. ,\li(|lll kcl illl. lllr IHW ( ,ll,l\,lll l,r,l(lc|- 

•"''■•■')'.■•'»•• I "I'-. 111-. (illl, nil, Kiitii^ -- III) List irn-i\ InlliAVLr- 

-•vv I"'.,'-;'"'-' 

J') |. .Miilnl Kci iiii'^ WW 'I'lni 
-•1)5. .M) Di./uii I'lippy Willi my Ciiok. 'rstriii;^ 
-"/'• -";;. -'.y>i. M.\ \Miitr I„ul,iki ll,,rsi- 
2')i). I'.iniir, 1111,1 lioiii Ciini) )_•_•. 
,r^". I'.iiioiMiiKi limii Ciiii]) :--^, .Sli\,,k \',illcy 

,V'l. \ icU llulll Clmi, yq .... 

y.2. Tile Mii.ill N,iii l.akr Miuili ,,f Camp y.A) 

V'.V IIorMs -(lini,' I., (liink al llir Lake luar Caiiip ,^ i . .M^dul 

Knimcn the left ...... <.','I,<!(>,\I 

2,o\. .■M.miil.iin .\..i ili-l'a-,! of (amp 310; tlir frohwalc r Lake in 
tliL' I iii(L;iiiini(l ...... C<>!i<iii;J 

.^05. Sturm CI' , Is ()\cr thu Siiuuy MdUiitains xjiali of Camj) 

.''-' L\uoun\l 

,306. Cam]) ',,',7 ........ 

,^07. Cimp;;-^. 'i'lic hcuinniiiL; of a St.irm .... 

,Vj'S. Ciiiip;,'-. l.t nil lum-iso, looking; I-'.ast .... 

,^-.9. Camp 1-1. Kaiielnin---an-ri from the .Xoiih 

,^10. My Uyin- I'miy 

311. Lost Irx'iiid l\rio\cry ....... 

.i'-'- ■■ " ill'- lontiniiis a fi.u daxs longer, v.c aro lost " 

3 I J- 3' !■ .^i,s- ii'''. ,?i 7. !'auoiama> from tlu- Cairp-. ; iS, ^^j. 3^5, 

3v). 3('j; in tin List two, Sh.i-k.iii-sliam .... 

31S. 'I'lic .\mliMr as a ."-liipluid 

319. 3J0. 3-M. TIk' Summits of Luiipo-;aiij;ii fro, 11 Camps 37,;. 

3.S1. .111(1 3,S3 ..... 

I A'.R 

J 1 6 









:^<?f i ^ r^ :-:^;---^-v.,s:;.- 



',.'.'. Wn -llin;; 

5? i. I'uij (iiiidrs ........ 

•,.' (. I;. i\ uilh 1 1, It 

•,_'5. >ll(|illru| lliiy ....... 

,-'^. .SoiKiiii .\-iiiliii. Cliiif of tlu' ('link( hu TruviniL' 
■,.■7. I )Mri lit' l\uin. (Icni iiKir iif tlic S.ik.i l'i.i\iiui' 
-,.'S. M.iti uiih ,1 sinful. ii ('.ip, in .Si.ii.imi N.;iirlin\ Ksccit 
;_■.;. I'a^l.x 'I'MTin;;, tlu' (hii I who rrluscd i,, let iiic '^o to tin 
I ).im;;i.i \ uni Iso ....... 

^ VJ- I laxrllili;; I.Mci.iki Mi.rrli;\m in \\\sl Tihci . 
i;i. • '.ui.l; (Jsf, Son of tin- (Ju\i riior of S.ika 

.^■,.'. I'.inchor. the V.iksla) t.r, my (iuidc on the Journey to thi 
Terinain-lso ........ 

;?15. \\oin,in of \'iMuli,i-nuitsen ...... 

V, t- 'I'ilietans with \aks 

;',5. I Ion he 'I'muii on the .March ...... 

Vi''. I'.uewell I'.nleri.iinnient for tlie Tibetans on Niav j 

")o>^ ' 

.vi7' 3,y'^- ,i,i'^ .if'J- 'I"he Dancers at the CaMii)!iro: Tub^'es 
Kunchuk. Suen ........ 

341. Inner Coun of Selipuk 

j;(j. Dorche 'I'suen and N-av ant; on Horseback . 

315. I'h..' .\iithor in Tibetan l)re,s 

3U. 3*5- ■Soldiers of the (;arri>on of Saka-il/ont;, belon;;in<; tc 
our K>c(jrt ........ 

,3(Cj. .\rnied Tibetan from the ('oiintry between the Teri-namtso 

and the 1 )an^'ra-\uni-tso 

;, 17. I!oy with small C.iin on the Southern Shore of the Teri-nani-tso 

3 (S. Trooper of the Fscort 

M'j. (if Teri-nain-tso 

.150. \'oiiii^ Shepherd of Hongha 

351. (niests at the Opening n[ my Tent on the Hank of the Teri 
nam-tsf) ........ 

35.'. '1 he Vaks folding the river Soma-tsanjjpo 

3,1 ■ 
33 1 














353- Niin-i Taslii, C-.nni.iiul. r <,f Hk- (;„v.rnnicnt Kscort on the 


Colon) III 











w»y t(i llu' Ti/ri iiam-tv) .... 

Nun-, of Mcndoii^' • . . . 

A lli-li L.un.i of Chokcliii .... 

Tlic I'riur of .S<Ii|)iik 

r«o l.,iiii,i>, of .Mciidoiif; .... 
•My .Sheep crossiiif; the Kivvr .Som;{;po . 
Villa-c liclow I.iiiikar-^'.niipa 011 the T.iruk-tso 
Meiulon;; .Monastery west of tlic IVrinam-tso .Monastery Soulli-Webl of the Nganglarin-tsr 

Holiday Costumes and Ornaments of Tibetan Women of 


Kyan{,'raM- ;n the Trans-Himalaya . . . Coloured 
■ Crossintj ">i-- Kangsham River 

. The \illa-e of I.unkar 

. (Iroiip of Tibetans at the Teri-iiam-ts ) . 

The Villa-e of Lui.kar from the Temple Hill 

The southern Shore of Manasarowar with -razin- \ak.s 

I.unkar-n;ompa . . . _ 

Selipuk ;;ompa .... 

The Trans-Himalaya from Abukla 

Storm over the Trans-Himal.iya 

•Sonam .\j;„rbu and his Follouers on Horseback 

•Some of our on the way to Kamba Tsenam's 
Tent ..... 

Lama of Chokthu takin- leave of the Prior of Seiipuk 

Lama of Chokthu on Horseback 
377. Hoys sitting . . _ _ 

\oun;; Lama . . , 

< '111 Woman . 

C'-'lonelT. (;. Montgomerie ... 

Abb.:- \\\xc . . _ _ 

Altar Table uuii I,„.ig.s of (;ods in Mangnang-gompa 













XVI 1 

vSj. The Author in Tibetan Costume at the Mission Sution in 

''"o 408 

^Sj. The last Members of the last Expedition in Poo . 

JS5. My I'uppy 

VS6. Takkar in his new Home with the Missionaries in Poo 

3.S7. Simla 

388. The last Members of the Expedition at the Entrance of the 

Viceregal Lodge in Ssimla 420 






8. The Sources of the Brahmaputra, Sutiej, and Indus. 

9. A Map of the Trans-Himalaya by Dr. Sven Hedin. 

10. A Map of Tibet showing Dr. Sven Hedin's Routes, 1906-1908. 
(^/ end of Volume.) 




nnruRKD monks 

We had heard of a lama who had Hved for the hist three 
years in a cave in the valley above the monastery of 
Linga, and thou.uh I knew that' I should not be allowed to 
see eitlur the monk or the interior of his ;;hastlv dwelling, 
I would not miss the opportunity of at least gaining some 
slight notion of how he was housed. 

On April i6, 1907, eighteen months to a dav after I 
had left Stockholm, drean' windy weathei prevai'led, with 
thickly tailing snow and dense clouds. We rode up to 
Linga. past rows of fine chhortcns, left the last dormitories 
behind us, saw an old tree trunk painted white and red, 
passed a small pool with crystal -clear sj)ring water thinly 
frozen over, and heaps of mani stones with streamer poles, 
and then arrived at the small convent Samde-puk, built 
on the_ very point of a spur between two sifle vallevs. It 
IS alhliated to the Linga monastery, and has onlv four 
brethren, who all came to greet me heartily at the entrance. 

It is a miniature copy, outwardly and inwardlv, of those 
we have seen before. The dukau'i;, has onlv three pillars 
and one divan for the four mcjnks, who read the mass 
t(tg(ther. nine prayer cylinrlers of medium size which are 
set m motion by leathern straps, a drum and a gong, two 
masks with diadems of skulls, and a row of idols, among 
which may be recognized several co|)ies of Chenresi and 
Sekiya Kongma, the chief abbot of Sekiva. 

•V few steps to the south-west we passed over a sheet 
:if schist with two stone huts at its foot r(!n!;!inip.!' bri'.'^h 
wood and twigs for burning. In Samde-pu-pe were two 

VOL. n , ^ 



small temples with altars of mud. In one of them were 
idols of medium si/x- and sea shells, and before them 
incense smouldered, not in the usual form of sticks, but in 
powder. It was strewn in a zigzag line, was lighted at 
one end. and allowed to smoulder away to the other, 
\\ ithin was a statue of Lovun with two lights before it,' 
and a shelf with writings called Chona. Rain water had 
percolated in and formed white vertical channels in the 
plaster, and under the ceiling kadakhs and draperies 
lluttered in the draught. Here the mice were less dis- 
turbed than in the ghostly castle Pesu. 

Close at hand at the foot of the mountain is the 
hermitage, dupkaui^, in which a hermit spends his days 
and years. It is built over a spring which bubbles up in 
the centre of the single room, a square apartment with 
each_ side five paces long. The walls are verv thick, and 
are in one solid mass, unbroken ])v windows.' The door- 
way IS very low, and the wooden door is shut and locked ■ 
but that IS not enough, so a wall of large blocks and 
smaller stones has been built before the door, and even 
the smallest interstices between them have been carefullv 
lilled up with pebbles. x\ot an inch of the door can be 
^'^u^u u '^ . '^ ^^'^ entrance is a tiny tunnel through 
which the hermit's food can be pushed in. The amount of 
daylight which can penetrate through the long narrow 
loophole must be very small; and it does not shine in 
direct, for the front of the hut is shut in bv a wall, forming 
a small court, which only the mo.,k 'who brings the 
anchorite his daily ration may enter. A small chimney 
rises from the flat roof, for the hermit mav make himself 
tea every .si.xth day. and for this ' some sticks of 
nrewood are pu.shed through the loophole twice in the 
month. Through the chimney, too, a feeble light may 
fall and by means of these two vents the air is renewed 
in the Cell. 

,-n fl^''''n-i-.^l''' 'T'^'' ""^ ^^^ ^^'"^ ^^ho Js now walled up 
in tni: cell .-' 1 asked. 

"Ik has no name, and even if we knew it we durst 

T^J}]^' ''■ r'^ '^^" '^™ "^^''•^■'>' ^he Lama RinDoch. ' 
^ CO Koppcii, iama means quo nemo est superior, 



one who has no one over him; and Rinpoche means 
gem, jewel, holiness). 

"Where has he come from?" 

"He was born in Xgor in Naktsang." 

"Has he relations?" 

"That we do not know; and if he has any, they do not 
know that he is here." 

"How long has he lived in the darkness?" 

"It is now three years since he went in." 

"And how long will he remain there?" 

"Until he dies." 

"Mav he icver come out again into the daylight 
before his dcn i?" 

"Xo; he has taken the strictest of all oaths, namely, the 
sacred vow onlv to leave the cell as a corpse." 

"How old is he?" 

"We do not know his age, but he looked about forty." 

"But what happens if he is ill? Cannot he get help?" 

"Xo; he may never speak to another human being. 
If he falls ill he must wait patiently till he is better again 
or dies." 

"You never know, then, how he is?" 

"Xot before his death. A bowl of tsamha is pushed 
every day into the opening, and a piece of tea and a piece 
of butter every sixth day; this he takes at night, and 
puts back the empty bowl to be filled for the next meal. 
When we find the bowl untouched in the opening we know 
that the immured man is unwell. If he has not touched 
the tsamha the next day our fears increase ; and if six days 
pass and the food is not taken, we conclude he is dead and 
break open the entrance." 

"Has that ever happened?" 

"Yes; three years ago a lama died, who had spent 
twelve years in there, and fifteen years ago one died who 
had lived forty years in solitude and entered the darkness 
at the age of twenty. No doubt the Bombo h:is heard in 
Tong of the lama who lived in the hermitage of the 
monastery Lung-gandcn-gompa for sixty-nine years, com- 
pletely shut off from the world and the' light of day." 

•"But is it not possible that the prisoner may speak to 




the monk who jjushc's the tsamba dish into the looj^hole? 
There is no witness present to see that all is correet." 

"That could never happen and is not allowed," 
answered my informant with a smile; "for the monk 
outside would he eternally (himned were ho to set his 
mouth to tlie loophole and try to talk to the recluse, and 
the latter would break the charm if he spoke from within. 
If tile man in there were to s])eak now, the three years he 
has passed tlure already would not be ])ut down to his 
credit, and he would not like that. If, however, a lama in 
Lini^^a or Sam<le puk falls ill, he may write his complaint 
and a refjuest fcjr the anchorite's intercession on a piece of 
paper, which is placed in the tsamba bowl and pushed into 
the opeiiin-. Then the reduce jirays for the sick man, 
and 11 the latter has faith in the pcjwer of prayer, and holds 
no unseemly conversation in the meantime, the intercession 
of the Lama Rinpoche takes effect after two davs and the 
patient <,ats well ai^^ain. On the other hand, the recluse 
never makes any communication in writing." 

"We are now only a couple of paces from him. Does 
he not_ hear what we are saying, or, at least, that some one 
is talking outside his den?" 

"Xo, the sound of our voices cannot reach him, the 
walls are too thick; and even if it were the case, he would 
not notice it, for he is buried in contemplation. He no 
longer _ belongs to this world; he ])robablv crouches day 
and night in a corner. re])eating prayers " he knows by 
heart, ()r reading in the holy books he 'has with him." 

"'I'hen he must have enough light to rearl by?" 

"Yes. a small butter lamj) stands on a shelf before 
two images, and its light suffices him. When the lamp 
goes out it IS pitch-dark inside." 

Filled with strange thoughts, I took leave of the monk 
and went slowly d„\vn the path which the recluse had onlv 
passed along once in his life. Before us was the splendid 
view which miglu never (kliglit his eves. When I had 
descended to the camp I could not look up the monastery 
valley without thinking of the unfortunate man sittin^r up 
there in his dark holr. 

Poor, nameless unknown to any one, he came to Linga, 




where, he had heard, a cave-dwelling stofxl vacant, and 
informed the monks that he had taken the vow to enter 
f(;r ever into chirkness. When his last (hiy in this world of 
vanity (hiwned, all the monks of Linj^'a followed him in deep 
silence, with the solemnity of a funeral, to his grave in the 
cave, and the door was closed on him for the rest of his 
life. T could picture to myself the emarkable procession, 
the monks in their red frocks, silent anci grave, bending 
their bodies forward and turning their eyes to the ground, 
and walking slowly ste|) by stej) as though they would let 
the victim enjoy the sun and light as long as possible. 
Were they ins])ired with admiration of hi. tremendous 
fortitude, compared with which everything I can conceive, 
even dangers infallibly leading to death, seems to me 

■'nificant? For, as far as I can judge, less fortitude is 
ired when a hero, like Hirosc, blockades the entrance 
ot Port Arthur, knowing that the batteries above will 
annihilate him, than to allow oneself to be buried alive in 
the darkness for forty or sixty years. In the former case the 
suffering is short, the glory eternal; in the latter the 
victim is as unknown after death as in his lifetime, and 
the torture is endless, and can only be borne by a patience 
of which we can have no conception. 

Xo doubt the monks escorted him with the same 
tenderness and the same sympathy as the priest feels 
when he attends a criminal to execution. But what can 
have been his own feelings during this last pro-iess in the 
world. We all have to pass along this road, but we do 
not know when. But he knew, and he knew that the sun 
would never again shine warmly on his shoulders and 
would never pnKluce lights and shadows on the heaven- 
kissing mountains around the grave that awaited him. 

Now they have reached their destination and the door 
of the tomb stands open. They enter in. spread a mat of 
interlaced strips of cloth in a corner, set up the images of 
the gods, and lay the holy books in their place: in one 
rnrner they place a wooden frame like those go-carts in which 
infants iearn to walk, and which he will not use till o'eath 
comes upon him. They take their seats and recite prayers, 
not the usuni prayers for the dead, but others which deal 




with the glorificfl Hght and life of Nirvana. They rise, 
bid him farewell, go out and close the door. Now he is 
alone and will never hear the sound of a human voice 
except his own, and when he says his pravcrs no one will 
be there to hear him. 

)\'h;it were his thoughts when the others had gone, 
and the short hollow echo had died away of the noise he 
heard when the d.-ir was shut for the last time, only to l)e 
opened again whe-i he was a corpse? Perhaps something 
like I'roding has expressed in his verse: 

Here hrcaks the soul from every bond, 

That fetter- to this life its pinion; 
Here stari> tlie way to the dark beyond. 

The land of eternal oblivion. 

He hears the brethren rolling the heavT stones to the 
door with levers, piling them up one on another in several 
layers, and tilling up all chinks with smaller stones and frag- 
ments. It is not yet (juite dark, for there are crevices in the 
door, and daylight is still visible at the upper edge. But the 
wjill rises. At length there is only a tiny opening through 
which the last beam falls into the interior of his tomb. 
Does he become desperate; does he jump up, thrust his 
hands against the door and trv to catch one more glimpse 
of the sun, which in another moment will vanish from his 
sight for ever.'' No one knows and no one will ever know; 
not c'ven the monks who were present and helped to block 
up the entrance can answer this question. But he is but 
a man and he saw how a llagstone was fitted over the hole 
through wh,(-h a last ray of daylight fell; and now he has 
darkness Ixiore him, and wherever he turns there is 
impenetrable darkness. 

He assumes that the other monks have gone down 
again to Samde-puk and Linga. How shall he pass the 
evening? He need nut begin at once to read his holy 
books; there is plenty of time for that, perhaps forty 
years. He sits on the mat and leans his head against 
tnewali. .\ow all his reminiscences come with -^reat 
distinctness into his mind. He remembers the swlntk 
' '■' '"■'- i-^^ii-Uc. UHi mam paanic hum, and 


he murmurs half dreaming the holy syllables, "Oh! thou 
jewel in the lotus. Amen!" But only a feeble echo 
answers him. He waits and listens, aiid then hearkens 
to the voices of his memory. He wonders whether the first 
night is falling, but it cannot be darker thpn it is already 
in his prison, his grave. Overcome by the travail of his 
soul, he sleeps, tired and weary, in his corner. 

When he awakes, he feels hungry, crawls to the opening 
and finds the bowl of tsamba in the tunnel. With water 
from the spring he prepares his meal, eats it, and, when he 
has finished, puts the bowl in the loophole again. Then 
he sits cross-legged, his rosary in his hands, and prays. 
One day he finds tea and butter in the bowl and some 
sticks }x;sidc it. He feels about with his hands and finds 
the flint, and steel, and the tinder, and kindles a small fire 
under the tea-can. By the light of the flame he sees the 
interior of his den again, lights the lamp before the images, 
and Ix'gins to reafl his books ; but the fire goes out and 
six days must pass before he gets tea again. 

The days pass and now comes autumn with its heavy 
rains ; he hears them not, but the walls of his den seem to 
be moister than usual. It seems to him a long time since 
he saw the sun and the daylight for the last time. And 
years slip by and his memory grows weak and hazy. He 
has read the books he brought with him again and again, 
and he cares no more for them; he crouches in his corner 
and murmurs their contents, which he has long known by 
heart. He lets the beads of his rosarv slip through his 
fingers mechanically, and stretches out' his hand for the 
isamha bowl unconsciously. He crawls along the walls 
feeling the cold stones with his hands, if haply he may 
find a chink through which a ray of light can pass. No, 
he hardly knows now what it is like outside on sunny 
paths. How slowly time passes! Only in sleep docs 
he forget his existence and escape from the hopelessness 
(;f the present. And he thinks: "What is a short earthly 
life in darkness compared to the glorious light of eternity?'' 
The sojourn in darkness is only a preparation. Through 
days and nights and lone vears of solitude the pondcrintr 
monk seeks the answer to the riddle of life and the riddle 





of death, and clings to the belief that he will live aL'ain 
in a glorihed form ot ixisteiice when his peri(xl of tri;il is 
over, ft IS failli al.jne which tan explain his inc(;nteivable 
lortitiide ol mind. 

It is diflieult to picture to oneself the chan-es thn-ii-di 
which the lama J)a^.ses durin- successive decades in the 
darkness of his cell. His si-ht must become weak, perhaDs 
be extinguished altogether. His muscles shrink, his senses 
ljec(jme more and more clouded. Longing for the li'^ht 
cannot pur.ue him as a fixed idea, for it 'is in his power 
to write down his .Iccision to curtail his time of trial an.l 
return to the light, on <,ne of the leaves of his books' u it h 
a splinter dii^ped in soot. He has only to place such a 
paper in the empty tsamlm bowl. But the monks had 
never known a case of the kind. Thev only knew that 
the lama who had been walled in for sixtv-nine vears had 
wished to see the sun again before he died. I h'ad heard 
Ironi monks who were in 'Pong at the time that he had 
written <Iown his wish to be let out. He was all bent up 
ogether and as small as a child, and his body was nothin'r 
but a light grey [Kirchment-like skin and bones. His eves 
had ,,st their colour, were quite bright and blind. I'lis 
hair hung round his head in uncomljed matted locks and 
^yas pure white. His body was covered only by a ra- for 
time had eaten away his clothing and he had 'received no 
new garments _ He had a thin unkempt beard, and had 
never washed himself all the time or cu. his nails Of the 
monks who sixty-nine years before had conducted him 
<. his cell, not one survived. He was then quite young 
himself, but all his conter.poraries had been removed bv 
death and new generations of monks had passed throucrh 
t cloisters; he was a complete stranger to them all. 
An.l he ha.l scarcely been carried out into the sunli-ht 
when he too gave up the ghost ^uni^nc 

In analyzing the state of such a soul, fancy has free 
ia>, for we know nothing about it. Waddell and Landon, 
• t ^T '" V^"""''"^'^^"^'''^''M^^'^'ition to TJiasa.and 
^^M the hermits' caves at Xyang-to-ki-pu. sav tha the 
monks who have there retire.l into perpetual da kness 
first iinr (Tu-Pnt ^■.,vvf,,.. _• „ _ , '. . > cHMiLss 

experiences of isolation, the nrst 



la>lin<,'six months, and the second three years and ninety- 
tliree days, and that who had passed throiif,'h the 
second peri(«l of trial showed signs that they wen- intel- 
leetually interior u> other monks. The cases which the 
two Kn<,disiinnn have descrilx'd seem not to have been 
so severe a trial as the one I saw and heard about in 
l-iMKa, for m the \yang-to-ki-pu caves the lama who 
waited on the recluse tappe.l on a stone slab which closed 
the small openin<;, and at this signal the immured lama 
luit his han.l out of this door for his foal ; he immediately 
drew the stone shutter to again, but in this way he would 
at least see the light of the sun for a moment' every day 
In the cases described by Waddell and Landon the im- 
mured monks had i)asse(i some twenty years in confine- 
ment. Waddell, who has a thorough knowledge of 
Lamaism, believes that the custom of seclusion for life is 
only an imitation of the practice of pure Indian Buddhism 
wluc.i enjoins periodical retreats from the workl for the 
I)urpose of self-e.xamination antl of acquiring greater clear- 
ness in questions. In his opinion the Tibetans 
luive^ made an end of the means. 

Un.Ioubtedly this opinion is correct, but it is not 
exhaustive It may be that the future hermit has in 
religious delusK)n come to the decision to allow himself 
to be buried alive. But does he clearly conceive what 
this means? If he became dull and insensible like an 
animal in his cell, all his energy and his power of will 
would be deadened, and what seemed to him, when he 
cnterefl, to be worth striving for, would gradually become 
more and more indilTerent to him. But this is not the 
case, for he adheres firmly to his decision, and the-eforc 
Ills energy must remain unimjjaired. He must possess a 
st-adfast faith, an immovable conviction, whirh is exposed 
1'.' a harder irial because he is alone and death alonc^ can 
visit hini in his cave. Possibly he becomes by degrees a 
yKtim of self-delusion, so that his longing for the last hour 
m tlie long night of his ilen gives place to the feeling that 
IK' IS always at the moment when the hour-glass of time has 

rln-ir'*"'''". .u "'"'^ ^'^'""^ ^'"^ ''^ '^'^''^ "' ""ic, and the 
uaikness oi the grave appears to him only as a second in 







I'Urnity. For the means he fornierlv had of marking the 
Ihght of time aii.l imjjresM'nfi it on hi.s memory nu longer 
exist. The changes from winter to summer, from (hiy to 
night, are only made known to him hv the rise or fall of 
the temjuTature in his den. He rem'emhers that several 
rainy seasons have i)assed by, and perhaps they seem to him 
to follow closely on one another while his Ijrain is clouded 
In monotony. It is inconceival)le that he does not become 
insane, that he does not call out for the light, that he docs 
not jumj) uj, and run his head against the wall in the agony of 
despair or Ix-at it against the sharp edges of the stones till 
he i;leeds t(; death an.! frees himself by committing suicide 
But he waits patiently for death, and death may delay its 
coming for ten or twenty years. His remembrance of' the 
world ami life outside his cell Ix'comes fainter anrl fainter- 
he has long forgotten the dawn in the east and the g.jlrlen 
clouds of sunset; and when he looks up his dimmed 
eyes perceive no stars twinkling in the night, only the 
black ceiling of his cave. At last, however, after" long 
years have passe<l in the darkness, suddenly a great 
brilliancy Hashes out - that is, when Death comes, takes 
him by the hand, and leads him out. And Death has not 
<) wait, entreat, and coa.x, for the lama has waited and 
onged for his welcome and only guest and deliverer. 
If he has had his mind still clear, he has taken the little 
wooden stand under his arms so that he may die in the 
same sacred position in which Buddha is represented in 
all the thousands of statues and pictures which have come 
t?m 'les"of Tibet''" '" """" ''■''"'^'"""«' ^'^'""^^ the cloister 
When the tsamba bowl, which has been filled daily for 
so many long years, remains at last untouched and the si.x 
days have e.xpiml, the cave is opened and the abbot of 
the monastery sits down beside the deceased and i)rays for 
him, while all the other monks pray in the dukaui' hall for 
hvcor s,x days together. Then the body is wrapped in 
a white garment a covering called ringa 'is placed on his 
head and he is burned on a pyre. The ashes are collected, 
kneaded together with clay, and moulded into a small 
l-wcimii., rthicn 15 deposited in a chhorten. 




Tlie Un^a monks said that an ordinary lama, when he 
(lies, is cut in pieces and abandoned to the birds. This 
l)rocess is performed here by tive himas, who, ihouj^h thev 
belonj; to the monastery, attend the service in the dukang, 
and drink tea with the other monks, are still considered 
unclean, and may not eat with the other brethren. Also 
when nomads die in the neighbourhoiKJ, their services are 
required, but then the relatives are Ix^und to provide them 
with horses and to unrlertake that the property of the 
deceased shall pass \n\.o the possession of the monastery. 

For days and weeks I could not drive away the i)icture 
I had formed in my mind of the Lama Rinpoche, before 
whose cell we had stood and talked. And still less 
could I forget his predecessor, who had lived there forty 
years. I fancied I could hear the conch which summoned 
the monks to the funeral mass of the departed. I pictured 
to myself the scene in the cave where the lama, crouching 
in rags on the floor, stretches out his withered hands to 
Death, who, kindly smiling like the skull masks in the 
temples, gives him one hand while he holds a brighdy 
burning lamp in the other. The features of the monk are 
transfigured in a reflexion of Xirvana, and forgetting the 
"Om mani jjudmc hum" that for tens of years has rever- 
berated from the walls of his den, he raises,' as the trumpet 
blasts sound out from the temi)le roof, a song of victory, 
which calls to mind the following strophe from the myths 
of another people {Frithiofs Sa^a, Blackley's translation) : 

Hail, ye deities bright ! 
Ye Valhalla sons ! 
Earth fadeth away; to the heavctily feast 
Glad trum|)ets invite 

Me, and blessedness crowns, 
As fair, as with gold helm, your hastening guest. 





\Vf, had stayed thrrc days near the monastery Lin<j;a, 
when we wint (in north-westwards on April 17 u\) the 
narrow My chii valley, in whieh the volume of water was 
now considerably diminished. Space does not permit me 
to describe in detail this wonderful road and its wild 
beauty. From the expansion of the valley at Linj^^a 
routes run eastwards and westwards into the mountains, 
with branches to numerous villages, of which I noted 
down the names and appro.ximate |)ositions. The traffic 
is now much less, but still numerous mani.s and 
reli<,'ious symbols stand beside the solitary path. 

We ride alonj,' the stc slopes of' the rij^dit , 

below us the river forms rapids, and the way is dangerous, 
especially with a horse that is not sure on its feet. 
Robert's small bay filly stumbled and fell, so that the rider 
was thrown headlong to the ground. Had he rolled down 
the slope he would have been lost; but fortunately he fell 
t-'wards the mountain. 

We encamped in the village Langmar, consisting of 
a few scattered houses, at the entrance of the small side 
valley Langmar-pu. 

\Ve still have hired horses, and now yaks also, anrl the 
caravan is divided into the same detachments as before. 
Sonam 'I'sering and Guffaru commanfl their sections. 
T^ering's party sets out last and is the last to come to 
rest, and Muhamed Isa supervises the whole. In the 
evening he is massnued bv two mpn ';el'''"tf'f' U'-^ — =' 
purpose, of whom Rehim Ali is one. There is still chang, 




the harmless, but still int()xiratin<;, beer. Among the 
singers at tlie camp-fires, Tsering, as usual, deserves the 
first prize. He gives me no end of amusement; he sings 
like a cow, or at best like a burst temple drum. His voice 
cracks continually, and he loses the time and the melodv 
without being the least put out. But he considers his 
singing very fine, and the others take jileasure in it; one 
can tell from a distance that the tears are coming into his 
eyes. Sometimes he pauses to explain the subject of the 
ballad and take a drink, and then he goes on again. When 
all the others are asleep, and all is so quiet in the camp 
that the rushing of the stream is audible and from time 
to time the bark of a dog, Tsering's rough voice trilling 
harshly still resounds among the mountains. 

Next day we draw near to the main crest of the 
Trans-Himalaya, for to my great surprise and delight we 
have been conducted in this direction. Granite still 
predominates, and in it erosion has excavated the wild 
forms of the valleys; the way is tolerably good, but very 
stony; small stri])s of ice lie along both banks of the 
stream, within which the bright green water fills the valley 
with the roar of its impetuosity. The dark green of a 
kind of juniper called pama is a relief to the eyes, which 
otherwise perceive nothing but grey slopes of detritus. 

The river here is named Langmar-tsangpo, but it is 
really only the upper course of the My-chu.' It is formed 
by the Ke-tsangpo coming from the north and the Govo- 
tsangpo from the west. The former, called in its upper 
course Ogorung-tsangpo, descends from the main water- 
shed of the Trans-Himalaya, and must therefore be con- 
sidered the main stream. I was told that its source may 
be reached in a day and a half from the junction of the 
valleys. On the left bank of the Govo a thicket of pama 
shrubs grows, and a safe bridge of three arches spans the 
river. Over this bridge runs the important trade route 
to Tok-jalung which I have mentioned above. Herds of 
yaks and flocks of sheep graze on the slopes, and circular 
penfolds remind us of our life in the Chang-tang. A 
— •••••';'-' "P "C crvj== iiiL- Uu\u, v.juLii IS riaii-irozcn 
over; springs and brooks from the side valleys adorn the 




scene with cascades of ice. The river is said to be here 
so swollen in summer that it cannot be crossed at any 
point. To the north and south snowy mountains are 

In the village ot Govo, consisting of seven stone 
houses, barley is cultivated and yields a moderate crop; 
but the inhabitants are not dejK'ndent on the harvest, 
for they also possess sheep, goats, and yaks, with which 
they migrate northwards in sumnn-r. Govo is the last 
village where agriculture is pursued, so we here find 
ourselves on the boundary between tillage and grazing, 
and also Ijetween stone houses and black tents (Illus- 
tration 182). 

We have, then, still time to look into an ordinary 
Ti))etan stone hut bel(;nging to a family in comfortable 
circumstances. The walls are built of 'untrimmcd bare 
stones, but the cre\ices are stopped with earth to keep out 
the wind. Through a labyrinth of walls and over round 
stones where the tripping foot seldom touches the ground 
we come to two yards where goats and calves are kept. 
In a third is a loom, at which a ha'*" naked coppery brown 
woman is working, antl in a fourth siis an old man engaged 
in cutting up pama shrubs. 

From this yard we entered a half-dark room, with a 
floor of mud, and two openings in the roof, through which 
the smoke escapes and the davlight enters. The roof 
consists of l)eams overlaid with a thatch of brushwood, 
which is covered all over with soil and flat stones — it 
must be nice and dry when it rains. There sat an elderly 
woman telling off her manis on a rosary of porcelain 
bead ,. 

The next room is the kitchen, the general li\'ing room 
and the principal apartment of the house. At a projecting 
wall stands the stone cooking-range with round black- 
edged holes fo- saucepans and teapots of leaked clay. 
A large earthen pot, standing on t!ie fire, contains barley, 
which is c,!ten parched; a stick with a stifT piece of 
leather at the end is twirled round in the barlev between 
the i)alms so that it may be roasted equally.' Tt tastes 






I went aljDUt. tu; id owr all thr houstlidd 
and iiiadf an invi'iUoi-y, and not in Sufdi>li (iiil\-. 
ill 'I'ilHtan. 'I'Iktc wirr nian\ dilUrtnt m^lI'^ 

lit also 
of iron. 

(lay, and wood for ail kinds of purposes, a lar^e wooden 
ladle, a tea sieve of sheet-iron, an iron spoon, an a-li 
shovel, iron Jire-tons^'s, ^uvl a thin!,^ called a llui-iiui. an 
iron Made fitted into a jjiece of wotxl, somethini,' like a 
elosed j.-ocket knife, and used to dress newlv'' wovin 
material. A lar^e elay ju-^r was filled with c/hini;.' A Mnall 
eubical vessel divided into four by small cross pieces of 
wood is used to measure corn. Brick tea is jiulverized 
with a stone shaj)ed like a cucumber in a deep wooden 
cup. A knife-blade with a haft at either end is used in 
preparing,' and tawin,^ hido. Under one of the smoke 
vents stocxl a small hearth for an open fire with an iron 
trip<xl. A larfre leathern sack was filled with tsamhi, and 
two shcei)'s stomachs held fat and butter. On a rack a 
quantity of sheep's trotters, dusty and dirtv, were arranj^ad ; 
when they are several months old ihev are Used to niake 
soup, which is thickened with tsamha. Tea, salt, and to- 
bacco are ke])t in large and small baj^'s. 

We saw likewise all kinds of reli<;ious (jbjects, votive 
bowls, j(jss-sticks, and small image cases; also Ijales of 
home-woven textiles, coloured ribands /or sewing on 
skin coats and boots, knives, hatchets, sabres, and spears, 
which, we were told, are for fighting thieves and robbers' 
a pair of bellows, two sacks of dry (lung for fuel, baskets, 
hand-mills for grinding barlev, consisting of two round flat 
stones with a handle on the upi)er one; lastlv, an oil- 
lamp and an oil-can; and a cvlindrical tub with i'ron hoops 
full of water. In a corner lay heaps of skins and garments" 
and against the wall were two sleeping-places still in 

In another store-room there were provisions in sucks, 
barley, green fodder, j)eas, and great joints of meat. Here 
t'lree young women and a troop of children had taken 
reluge; we left them room to escape, and thcv ran awav 
screaming loudly as if all the knives in the' house were 
at their throats. In the room were l^alances for weitrhiner 
n.nM>iu,g (M a rounded stall with a stone weight at one 


1 6 



end and a d icd yak hide at the otlur. Behind a partition, 
straw was kipt. 'rhure are lii-rh inconvenient thresholds 
between the rooms, and the usual bundles of rods on the 
roof to protect the house from evil s|)irits. 

After this expedition we the tents of our 
escort, where a lire was burninfr in a broken clav pot, and 
a skillet stood over it on a tripod. Th,. smcJke escapes 
thnjugh the long slit between the two halves of which the 
ten. IS composed. The owners of the tent wire writing 
their report to the authorities in Shigatse, informing them 
that we were on the right road. At the same time they 
were eating their dinner of mutton, a vear old, dry and 
hard; it must not come near the fire. One of them 'cut it 
into strips and distributed it among his comrades. He 
had been for twent\- years a lama in the monastery Lun"- 
ganden in Tong, but a few years before had been' ejcctt^d 
from the confraternity because he had fallen in love with 
a woman. He spoke of it himself, so it was doubtless 

Robert's bay horse was reported dead on the morning 
of April 20. His late tumble now seeme<l to us like an 
omen; though fat and sleek, he died suddenlv about mid- 
night. We now ride on again towards higher' regions over 
uncomfortable blocks of stone, but the' valle\' becomes 
more open and the relative heights diminish. Though the 
little that IS left of the stream still swirls and foams 
the ice becomes thicker, and at last covers almost all 
the bed, and the water is heard rushing and murmurin.^ 
under it. Juicy moss skirts the banks, the view becomes 
more extensive, and the whole character of the landscape 
becomes alpine. We saw ten men with guns in a sheep- 
fold, carrying gun-rests with veilcnv and red pennants on 
one of the prongs: perhaps they were highway robbers 
Dark clouds sweep over the ridges, and in a minute we 
are in the midst of icy-cold drifting snow, but it does not 
last long. 

The bit of road wps awful, nothing but boulders and 
debris, which we amid sometimes avoid by riding over the 
i^ce of the river. The camj^ing-ground was called Chomo- 
sumdo, a vauey fork in a desulule region, but the escort 







had seen that some straw and barley were brought up on 
yaks for our horses. 

From here \vc had to ride on the ice, smooth and firm 
afttr 27 degrees of frost in the night. The neighbour- 
hood is not, however, uninhabited, for yaks and sheep were 
seen grazing in many places, belonging to nomads migrat- 
ing nortliwards or merchants coming from Tok-jalung. 
M two black tents the people were packing up for the day's 
march; they had goats, with red strips of cloth lx)und round 
the ears. 

.\ little farther up is a precipitous rock on the right 
side of the valley, and two caves open their black mouths 
in the wall. The lower one (Illustration 190) is the 
entrance to a passage leading to the upper, where a 
lamous hermit has fi.xed his solitary abode. The upper 
opening has a partly natural balcony decorated with 
streamer poles and ribands. Below the lower stand mani 
cairns, long garlands of string ^^ith coloured prayer 
strips, a prayer mast, and a metal idol in a niche of the 

We tethered our horses at the edge of the ice and 
went up to the lower grotto. Here two young nuns from 
Kirong (on the border of \e[)al) met us, and two mendicant 
monks from Nepal, one of whom spoke Hindustani, so 
that Robert could converse with him. The nuns were 
pretty, well-grown, sun-burnt, and somewhat like gypsies; 
their large black eyes had the shimmer of velvet, and their 
black hair was parted on the forehead and fell in luxuriant 
waves over their shoulders; they were clothed in red rags 
and wore Tibetan boots adorned with red ribands. They 
spoke cheerfully and pleasantly in strikingly soft, e.xtremely 
symi)athctic voices, and were not in the least timid. Their 
simple dwelling, which we saw, was in the great entrance 
of the grotto, under a smoke-blackened vault, surrounded 
by a small wall and a palisade of pama branches, and partly 
hung with cloth. A sleeping-place was made of rugs of 
interwoven strips of cloth, and a tea-kettle was boiling on 
the fire. One of the men had a thick pigtail and a red 
lama frock ; the other wore a sheepskin, and had not had 
his hair cut in the present, twentieth, century. The 



It V 




prDptr was situatnl in a higher part ..f tht 


All lour IkuI ((.nic in autumn, and were waiting for tlu- 
warmer scaM.n to to Mia>a. and return tliencL' 
home a-ain. In the meantime thev voluntarilv waited on 
the two holy hermi-s sojournin- in this mountain, and 
therein- earned their livin|r and ^'ained merit, accordin-^ to 
the Ideas of thew order. When thev -o off a-ain un tlu ir 
wanderm^'s, other si'rvint: brethren and .Msters will he 
lound ready to take tluir place. 

.\ uindinir staircase on llie left, partly natural and 
I'arl y constructed of lla-.lone^, leads to thJ upper regions 
<'l tlK' cavern. .\t tir>t it is dark, hut hecomes li-hter as 
we api)roach a loophole in the rock. Here and there are 
streamer |,ole>, and tiie holy syllables are incised. Fn.m 
the loophole the staircase turns steeplv to the ri-ht ; if wc 
slip; u on the smooth stone we should tuml.le down ri-ht 
into the nuns' kitchen, which from here looks like ?hc 
'^"•<;;nY'l 'I ^vdl. The passa.^e en<ls at a point where a 
small stone staircase -oes up to a trapdoor covered with a 
slab. ushm- aside the slab, one reaches the larger 
grotto chamber of ^vhieh we had seen the opening from 
theyaley. liut the serving brothers and .sisters would 
not take us so high. 

In this upper' grotto, Choma taka, tiie roo years' old 
hermit, (umsang Xgurbu, of high repute in all the country 
for h,s hohnc;s>, dwelt for seven years. Gunsang means 
hermit, and .\gurbu is a very common name signif^■in.r 
precious stone. Every seventh day his attendants place 
f "/"^ water. tea,_ and fuel on the steps under the trap- 
door, and these things are taken in bv the old man who 
may not speak with men, i^ut only with the gods. Through 
a hole under the slal) I caught sight of a Mortcu con- 
structed of stones and mud, and some painted pictures of 
,^ on the wall of the grotto. Behind the rhUtnt, and 
unlor.unaiely out of sight, the old man sat in a niche in 
;;;;vall, crouching down and saying his prayers; now and 
tiiiii he lilows a shell horn. 

' '•'■ i'""'' a>i;ie ihe .-^iiutiii and mount into the 

upper grotto, but the con.<iences of my companions would 

ml. K<iiii 

'.Ml R\BhANG liV lllh III. UN 1111. W .\V lO lllli ( 'll ,\.S<;-I..\- I'OIJ- l.A. 

lyj. .\ l.ll.VDSK llKCKlli WITH M ANI-Sti )NKS A.Nl) I'RAVKK-StRKAMKHS 
(X.W, ..I" tin- K..r<--hi.i 


OVKR TIIK CnA.\(}-LA-P()l)-L.\ 


not pLTinit -lull a tiling for all tlir iiioncy in the \\(irl(l. 
It would (li-lurl) llir old man in lii> nK-dilatiiin-, and 
intc'i U])l die pi.Ti(Kl oi his sic lu>ion, and, iiioitom r, tht- 
(.1(1 man would throw stones at us. Thr lih' of the lurmit 
X^urlni must be idyllic compared to that of the immured,i,'a monks, for he sees the valley, the ^lui, the whirling 
snow, and the stars sparklini^ in the sky; hut he must 
sulTer from ennui. In anotlur ^'rotto. side hy side with 
Xf^urbu's, lives another hermit, hut the two have never 
met and know nothing of one another. They may tat no 
meat, only Isamha and tea. and they receive tlie>e from 
the nei^hhourintj nomads and the travellers pa»ing alonj; 
the road. 

.\fter this digression we cross the ice of the river again 
and pass u]) over the ever-present detritus. Before us is 
the tlattish saddle of the Chang la-I'od la. We accomi)lish 
the ascent with gieat effort, the icy wind blowing right in 
our faces. I cannot commence my observations at the 
cairn till I have warmed my hands over a dung fire. The 
view is limited, flat, and of little use for orientation. 
However, towards the way we have come, \vc can see the 
dee[)ly eroded valleys, an(l we seem to be higher than the 
ridges enclosing them. The height is 18,284 f<-'<-'t. Chang 
signifies north, north country; Pod or I'o, Tibet, i.e. Tibet 
proper, chieily inhabited by a settled p(j])ulati()n. Chang- 
la-Pod-Ia is, then, the pass Ixfveen the northern tableland 
of the nomads and the co .utry to the south having 
drainage to the sea. It is this property of a boundary 
Ix'tween these two regions which renders the Trans- 
Himalaya of such prime imj>ortance, and therefore there 
are many passes called Chang-la-Pfxl la. Often and often 
I was tokl that a ])ass, whatever might be its especial 
name, was a Changda-Pcxl-la when it lay on the watershed 
between the inland drainage of the north and the river 
basin of the Tsiingpo in the south. I had then crossed 
the Trans-H'malaya a second time by a pass lying 44 
miles to the vest of the Sela-Ia, and had been able to 
ascertain that the In'^-c range of the Xien-chcn-Tang-la 
extends tlius far. li was still more my earnest desire to 
follow it step by step to the west. 



After \vc had cnramiu'd on the pass, where- the 
thcrmonuHT fill at li^lit to -g.J°, wf nxlc on April 22 
slowly down the valkv of the Shakdiu rivir, which 
},'radiially btromi's hroadir, and is hcj^'irt Iiv Hal roumUd 
mountains, in which rock in sUn .-cldoni ocdirs. \Vc 
have passed from the maze of iiioiintain> intersecteil 
by the allluents of the My-clui, abundantly fed hv the 
rains, on to the wide plains of the plateau countrv. and 
notice af,'ain that the 'rrans-IIimaiaya is also an extru(jr- 
dinarily important climatolofrical l)oun(lary. 

The Lapsen Tari is a heap of clods' with a sheaf of 
rods stu( k in the middle, from which streamer strings are 
carried to other nvis. From this point thiTe is a hne view 
over the jjlateau and its wreath of mountains. To the 
north, 55° west, we see the Tarf,'o-jran},'ri aj^^ain, but more 
majestic, more isolated, and more dominant than from the 
\f^'an<(tse-tso, where, shrouded in clouds and surrounded by 
other mountains, it was less conspicuous. 

Just at the mound we passed the last corner which 
(jljscured the view, and suddenly the whole grand mountain 
ai)[)eared in its dazzling whiteness, shining like a light- 
house over the sea of the plateau, in a mantle of firn fields 
and blue glistening ice, and rising bold and sharpiv against 
the sky of purest azure blue. The mound is therefore 
placed where the traveller coming from Shigatse first 
comes in sight of the holy mountain. Our guides bared 
their heads and murmured ])ra\ers. Two pilgrims, whom 
we hacl seen at the grotto of the' hermits, lightc^l a fire and 
threw into it a scented powder, an offering of incense to 
the gfxls of Targo-gangri. South and south-west runs a 
lofty range, of uniform height, with patches of snow 
glittering in the sun on its brownish-purple summit — 
another jjart of the Trans-Himalaya. 

-As we sat here a trading caravan came along the 
road to Penla-buk, which lies on the west side of the 
Dangra-yum-tso, and is a ren(lez\'ous for gold prospectors 
and wool-dealers. Our tents formed a little village on 
the Kyangdam i)lain, where wild asses abound," and 
some sixty nnm.-.ds of the neig!ib-uurho<3d encamped 
around it. 


()\ER Till-: CHAN G-LA- POD-LA 


In thf evening the .scort from Ghe i)resente(l them- 
selves to inform me that as we were now in the Largep 
district, subject to vhe Labrang, they would return home 
and consign us to a new guard. The latter consisted of 
five men far advanced in life. Their leailer was a small 
grey-headed man with trembling hands and very indis- 
tinct enunciation. When the Ghe men, who longed to 
return to their warmer villages, had gone otT next morning 
in spite of a violent storm, I had a serious talk with the 
new men. They intended to kad us over the pass Sha-la 
{Trans-IIimalaya) in the south-west, where the Targo- 
tsangj)o rises, on the banks of which we had passed the 
day. According to Xain Sing's map this river flows round 
the east side of Targo-gangri, and then enters the Dangra- 
tso, as the holy lake is called here. But Xain Sing 
was never tlure, and I wished to gain an insight into the 
geography of the country. So we came to an agreement 
that we should travel north-westwards; and I pointed out 
to the men that Raga-tasam was put down in our passport 
as the next place; that two roads led thither, one over 
the Sha-la, the other deviating northwards to the Targo- 
gangri, and that I had chosen the latter. The passport 
prohibited us from visiting Lhasa, Gyangtsc, and the 
monastery Sekiya-gompa, but contained not a single 
word about the road to the Dangra-yum-tso. Thev ought 
then to comjily with my wishes.' The old man hesitated, 
pondered awhile, and summoned his followers to a council. 
His tent was s- m full of black, bare-headed men in grey 
sheepskins. Then the consultation was adjourned to 
Muhamed Isa's tent. After some consideration they 
agreed to my proposals, on the condition that I should 
pay them a whole teni^a per day for each yak instead of 
half a tenga. I rejoiced at the hope of seeing the holy 
mountain coming closer and closer, and its finer details 
becoming more conspicuous, of Loholding it in cloud and 
sunshine, disappearing behind the hills and peeping out 
again like a man-of-war in a rough sea with high white 
waves round the bow, or, more correctly, like a ship under 
iiiil sail on the sea of the plateau. Of course I exposed 
myself to annoyances by ignoring the passport, but geo- 




^'r;i|.lii(;il (lixdvcrics wire ( oik crncil and 
iiuNt he Mt a^'ilf. 

<'i. \V-.. .lav April ,,, ^u- had a ^ wind in .mr 

l">ir liHiMni.n ulm uviv a> nui. i, alik,- a. if iluv ha.l hrrn 
'.>-i 11. t u- Sim,. n,..iiM. and u Im |,ad all nial. 1.1,., ks „.n 
.''"'I- l'"'.N I n«K- alnn- tli,' hank ,,| tli,- Tar.r., tsiri"..,, 
"• 'H '■'^' valKy ul,i,|, .jop^s ujtl, an "^cMnm Iv 
i^niU- i^ra-lunt iinp,T,v,,til,|,. i., iIk- ,vt., t., tl„. lakr. 
■M .iM tlu' ValKv Ivc.nus >.> narrow that ihr i,r f,||s all 
I';, '""";"^- ""• ••"•"I th,T,.f,wv lravc> th. riur en th. 
'^". and pa.MS ..ur Hat hill.. ain„n« v.hi(h uv (t„.s a 
Mi.(.-,un nl ,n,all allhunt. HIac k tents, tarn., vaks 
KHi/in^, >tun,. nids Inr sh,rp. uiM a-.,., and millions r,f 
'^•''' •""^' ••'•call to mind tl.,' Chan- tan^. Th,' uil,| vak 
Mouvvvr, docs not ,.(Ti,r in this n.untrv. The fcathi-mi 
k.iiK. on, ,s n.prcscntrd l,y ravcn>, uil.j '.huks and occa 
sionallv a Miiall l,n-,l. \\h,n uc- ram. to th. Humnak dui 
a nd.thand tr.lniiary of the Tai-o tsanu'l.-.. a ku-c 
•H""lHr ol mm ,am,. to m,rt u>, .salutin^^ with thr ton-^ur 
and ^'azin- at us , luvrfully and -..od-tcnlprrnllv, uith their 
on- hiack imkrmpt hair, tlxir ..mall -rev skins, ami their 
lorn hoots. 

. On .\|'ri| 25 wr rode over the Tin- la pas.; at its foot 
IS a iwnii in -o,k1 prcMrvation, with a vak skull as orna- 
"i'nt. a l,.rm ot pray,T Inin- inrisc<l in' the frontal hone 
hetween_ tlu^ h,.rns. From the top of the pa.s Tar-o- 
Kan-ri is seen expande,! into a row of pc-aks covered with 
snow. I he whole re-ion is like a sea with a stron- swell 
on, an,l the lar-o-an-ri is as white foamin- surf on the 
n)a>t. A little later the summits of the mass sKkkI riearlv 
"Ut \vhit,. on a l)ack-roun,l <.f hluish-hlaek clouds- the 
lii^n-t two. twin peaks, ha.l the form of a Tibetan ' tent 
on two ]io|,'s. 

<)"•• '-amp in the Kokho vallev .^ontainal not fewer 
' ia'1 >ltven tents, for now we harl ahout fortv companir.ns 
" al a-, s, an,l at least a humlred vaks. The were 

IlaM>l,rrr.| to otluT Vak. on the nv\rrh to .-Mare the ■;-• '■ 

Wlieii the caravan moves over the rounrled '"hilirit'''i.s ' 111^' 


0\i;r ilii; CII.WG-LA-I'ol) LA 




a nomad triU' on thi' man ti. Most of our Tilxlans ride 
yaks or hor.M>. 

\\V had made a sliort march, and j)lenty of tinu- was 
Ifft for nu- lo f,'o alxHit. make a visit to i;u h ti'nt. and sir 
liow . c men Win- Ki^tting on. Thty uia- all drinking ti'a 
and ratin;,' tsamlni, their greatest 'pleasure in life. 'I'he 
dunj,' fire^ hums in the middle, and the form of tlu' tent 
(irtainly is the cause of the draught which prevents smoke 
from c-ollectini,' in.side. Round alxnit stand kettles, tea- 
|)ots, and W()(Mlen cups. A hu<,'e (|uantity of i)rovisions 
lies at the sides. Saddles and harness are deposited in a 
row Ixfore the tent. When I enter, all rise, hut I heg 
them to sit down a^'ain and go on eatinJ,^ while I take a 
seat on a harley sack at the door of the tent. All have the 
rJL^dit arm hare, and many lM)th arms; when thev let their 
sheejiskins fall down their hacks the whole IkkIv' is naked 
down to the waist. They are copper hrown and covered 
with a layer of dirt, hut well-<,'rown, powerful, manlv, and in 
^o<m1 i)roportion. The cook of the tent community jxairs 
out tea for all, and then each one hrin^s out his own haj,' and 
takes out a pinch of tsamha to sprinkle into his tea. They 
cat meat either raw or hoiled in a pot. They ax- all c|uic't 
and orderly, no angry words are heard, no fjuarrelling and 
shouting, they are all the hest of friends, and make them- 
M-lves comfortahle after their dav's march, talking and 
laughing together. Their wigs are dust-traps and make 
them look like Indians. Most of them wear a pigtail, 
consisting mostly of plaited threads with white lK)ne rings 
and small silver image lx)Xes which a have couf)le of 
turquoises inlaid in the lid. Some have the pigtail wound 
round the head, forming a singular crown, the diadem of 
the wilderness. 

In another tent the dinner was finished and the "covers" 
were empty. There a man sat with an awl. cohhling a 
torn hoot; another sewed on firmly the girths of his sarjdle; 
and a third lay on his hack, with' legs crossed and an arm' 
supporting his head, and took his after-dinner nap. Seen 
from a hove he makes a very ahsurd figure with his huLH- 
noMiiis, into which mice might easilv walk in mistake for 
their holes. 

smirking youth is smoking his pipe, while 




his ncif^^hbour busily and carefully searches for suspected 
lodgers "in his shecrskin. 

I drew several of them ^vlthout exciting the least 
uneasiness; on the contrary, they make a joke of the 
sitting, and laughed heartily when they saw their counter- 
S" which tbev embellished with prints of their buttery 
fing rs on the margin. They asked mo why I drew them 
and for what purpose I wished to know their names am 
ages Thev were all sympathetic, polite, and friendly, and 
i caioved their societv (Illustrations 193, 194)- 

A be'^'ing lama, too, looked in ; he was on the way to 
Kailas, and was quickly sketched, to the intense amuse- 
ment of the other men. He lx)re a lance with a black 
tassel and red strips, a timbrel, an antelope horn to protect 
himself against snappy dogs, and a trombone of human 
bone which he set in a corner of his mouth vyhen he blew 
it It caused him much amusement to be the object ot 
universal attention, and he took advantage of it to make 
acquaintance with the nomads with a view to an appeal to 
their libcrahty (Illustration 195)- 



Hji, 11)4. XoMADS Sixth OF T\Rr.., ".ANr.Ri. nj;. Mkniucwt I,\\i\ lil.iiui\( 

ON A Ill"\l\N Honk. H)(i. TlllKl \.S liov. 

Skitiho l>v thr AullMr. 

mm^m^'m':im^^.M^W:^m^^im:Bm: .^v:y 

L*. -■■ 



Hitherto we had experienced no difficulties, but at Kokbo 
the state of affairs seemed disquieting. Our old man in- 
formed me that he had sent a message to the nomads at 
the Targo-gangri mountain, asking them to hold yaks in 
readiness. They had answered that they could not think 
of serving a European without express orders, and that 
they would resort to force if ouc present guards led us to 
the lake. The old man, however, was not put out, but 
believed that he could soon bring them to their senses. 

On April 26 we march north-westwards in a sharp 
wind over the pass Tarbung-la. The sacred mountain 
exhibits all the Ix'auty of its sixteen peaks, and north, 
S.f west, is seen the gap where we expect to find the 
Dangra-yum-tso. The view is of immense extent. The 
valley widens out and passes into that of the Targo- 
tsangpo. Four antelopes sjjring lightly over the slopes; 
black tents are not to Ix- seen. 

When we again reach more c ^en ground, one of the 
most magnificent view: I have seen in this part of Tibet 
opens out to the west-south-west, a gigantic range of 
uniform height, with snow-covered pinnacles and short 
glaciers between, which is scarcely inferior to Targo- 
gangri_ in imposing beauty and massiveness. The chain 
is bluish black below the snowy points;' at its foot lies a 
lake unknown to us, the Shuru-tso. The journey to the 
Xgangtse-tso north-north-east bv the way of the Shang- 
Ijuk-la pass is rcckMHcd as o"ly three davs' march. On 
the eastern flank of Targo-gangri five glaciers are deeply 





imbcdclid, wiiiK. to the r,s( of .1, 

.'gradually approac h? pa n'" c,V fiv "'', '^'t'^S :-^'''^h \vc 
'aces, rdiVs „f a tinu' uhe^tl rD-ntn. '"■'^' ^'^■^'""' '^■'- 
lari^cr than no^^•. Two ^vovcsma^?^T■ "!"'''' '''' "^"^^ 
the old ,.an gallops after t^^^^tt t rn" ^'l' ''\ ^■^' ^'"'' 
^^t"P,a.s if to wait for him 'hi 1^1 f • '" ''^^'^' 

'-".!>•' <i-n : b^^^t \.i:f ^;-^^{ ^^ ^^^ Ta^o- 

nvcr is divided into scvxrd rn^ 'j-''^'""' ''"^' ^erc The 

nght bank lies our cnmn V ^"'' ''^"'^■'^- On the 

of t.:n^-'i:;;:^^:-"^- 't rr^- .Here a troop 
had been sent by the Governor of X^ ""'"T'^ "^' ''^^ 
'i^-oni,', u-ith orders to stop us - fn . ''"^' Z'^'" ^^ansa- 
'[> ^'Jvance to the hoi v lake '' Thf T '^'^^'^^"'^ attempt 
sharper watch nml hi i • • "'"^ t'"^^' they had keot i 
,^ind's of liberties-l^'r ;! C'lSl^^ '''\' -"''' ^^ 
before, and had been c 'mpJnVh L tCt"^« ^''^^'^:" ^^^"^ 
arrn-al. If ,ve had hurried we shoul h •''' f ''""'"^ «"'• 
hem again. One of the h4 leader ^a^^'^'en before 

s.nn. who, as he told mc If^ u u\^^' '^"'^ ^undup 

^flaje TscTin- at fh ' K f ^''^ '" January with 
''^^^^ ^"^i^" T^eri ! wa sdlfKr'- , «\ '"f"™-' me 
trouble because c/us .n 1 1 -,1 k '' , r"' ^^' ^^^ "^"^h 
of sixty ya„d>a,s (ab^ut /6-c1 ,^''?, ""'"'^^ '" P'-^^ ^ fine 
remarke,! that lillTtinl " /'? , P^'^'^'^'^""^. When 
'''^ ^vas so j)oor that he I ir ""n.t- ^?^'} "'^^ ^'^^^^^f that 
answered that he hacl ext'or eel h "^' ^'^' ''\ '"^^■' ^^^^^'-^'P 
"^'hnatcs. All, too, who had Ll I - "'""l'^' ""^ '^'^ ^^"''- 
as Kui.les had be.n heaWh finn. '4^'^' ""^' ''''''^ "^ 
^vho attempted to "et hroL), "'• 1 ^^' "^-^'t i^-ropean 
have no en<i of dilT.cul Ls t^c^^n ,,:?''^°,';^ ,f„ P^^^Port would 

Lundup pointed to ^ ml T -^ '''''^' (Illustration 200). 
"orth of ou; camp/ nd s^i" "n" Promontory, .00 .yards 
t^veen the Labr.m,: rpLtf..; ' ^ere js the boundary },p- 
-.-. V -.uiuiij..,; ana Xaktsang (Lhasa). 

■ ■>&.<: 


fm^m-mm. . . -^.^k w 

XV7- l^-i !"-(„ i,r. S. .M° i;° U\, Ihr M,i-iu .ri Mukc luil■^-.iIll;. (,;). 



-[-.n ( ;) in llu 






- -iV- 

K,;. kl i;l-i. \M.i I I i"M r wif 2 I. s, n," I... \i,'..nM-.|ii:i;ili'iw I I ', uilli llir .\K"iii"-ili!iK'li"H ' '■'■ii ii r 1" 

T \i.i,M.(, ',\(.i:i ii:ii\i \ Hill \i \i; Cwii" I ; J. .\. ;j° W ., S, i-luk 

■,y<»Tv ,r :Wii | fey"a«'^ 

- (- 


!.).(. 'Iiii CiiDMii-ri Hii\c-, (ii.'.irp ii>i)\i nil Ki\' 

Sk. I. h. - l.v ih. \ 


1.1, ii r 1« I..U. S, J- \V., Al-i 121, with llu Ali-i I.I. 1 in. S ,.• i -^ ;;° U , ill' Mi-i\> - 1 \I uk. lmi:L;--im . « ; i 

Si r~hik-j;MMi|i.i I (). .\. 2ii^-\-°\\ \\\v l).iiigr,i-yi iii l-i> i ; i ii. ih. ■li-t.i 

It Kim iiiN-i \. .\I w j;. I'ji; !cl. lliu^tratinri 41 O. 
A ill. Aulh ir 




So far we can let you go, Init not a step farther; if you 
attempt it. we have orders to tire on you." 

They read the j)assi)ort from Shigatse. and afhrmed 
that the words therein, "on the direct way to Ladak," did 
not mean that we had j)ermission to make all sorts of 
detours, and, above all, we might not go to the Dangra- 
vum-tso, which is holy and is in the territory of Lhasa. 
Gaw Daloi had given orders that he should be informed 
daily which way we were travelling. If they did not olx.'y 
this order thev would lose their heads. It was evident, 
then, that I should have to give uj) the Dangra-yum-tso 
for the third time, and ju.-^t when I was only two short 
days' march from it. 

The outline of the mountain stood out sharp and white 
in the moonshine against the blue-black starry sky. ^ The 
ne.xt (lay there was a storm, and not even ttie foot of Targo- 
gangri was visible, much less the icy-cold heights where 
the winds sing their heavenly choruses among the firn 
fields. In the evening, however, when the weather hafl 
cleared, the whole mass stood clearly out, covered with 
frcshlv fallen snow. 

Again we held a long palaver with the horsemen from 
Naktsang. I told them that I would not leave this camp 
till I had at least seen the lake from a distance. To my 
delight they replied that though they were obliged, much 
against their inclination, to cause me the disappointment 
of not visiting the lake, they would not prevent me from 
seeing it from a distance, but that they would keep a good 
watch lest I should ride off behind yonder red mountain to 
the north. 

They had scarcely gone when our old Kyangdam guide 
came to complain that the horsemen from Naktsang had 
threatened his life because he had ])rought me here. I 
sent for the Naktsang men again and impressed on thim 
strongly that they had no cause of complaint against my 
escort, for it was entirely my fault that we were^ here. 
Thev promised that they would not again treat the Kyang- 
dam' men harshly, as they had most fortunately caught mr 
just at the right moment. The Kyangdam men could 
not thank me enough for restoring peace, and their joy 

-^:^ '^^^ 

^i^ ^Fm^.mjm 




L^ I 

was still prcatcr when I presented the whole party with 
monev to supplement their s( anty store of provisions. They 
gave vent to their delight by performing games, dances, 
and wrestling lK)uts in f:-ont of my tent, anfl their hap|)y 
laughter and shouts were echoed till late in the night from 
the mountains. 

Then came twelve more soldiers from Xaktsang with 
fresh orders that we were under no circumstances to Ix; 
allowed to proceed further northwards. But all were 
friendly and polite; we joked and laughed together, and 
were the best of friends. It is singular that they never 
lose their patience, though I am always causing them 
worrv, perplexity, and trouble me journeys. 

The chief of Largep was more unyielding than our old 
friends the Xaktsang gentlemen. He would not let me 
climb the red mountain, but insisted that we should leave 
the district ne.xt day and travel straight to Raga-tasam. 
However, I snubbed him, demanding how he, a small 
chieftain in the mountains, could dare to s[)eak so per- 
emptorily. Even the Chinese in Lhasa, I said, had 
treated us pleasantly and had left us the fullest freedom. 
I would not leave the sjjot until I had seen the lake. I 
threatened to tear the Shigatse passport in pieces, and 
send off at once a courier to Tang Darin and Lien Darin, 
and wait for their answer at the foot of Targo-gangri. 
Then the chief k-camc embarrassed, got up in silence arid 
went away with the others. But they were with me again 
in the evening, and with a humble smile they said that I 
might ride up the red mountain if I would promise not to 
go to the shore of the lake. 

A thin veil of mist lay over the country all day long. 
But when the sun set, the western sky glowed with purple 
flames, and the cold glaciers and snowfields were thrown 
up bv a background of fire. 

At last, on April 29, we take to the road and ride up 
the aflluent Chuma, flowing down from the right and called 
in its upper course Nagma-lsangpo. We climb higher and 
higher up regularly curved lake terraces; the view widens 
out the nearer we approach the summit, where the Ladakis 
are waiting for us with a fire. The southern basin of the 







Dangra-yum tso 

was cU-arlv 


as a 


sahre 1j1. 


and thf valKy 

of the fi 

ir^'o tsa 



out lik( 

.' a 

triim|Hl to the 
t ;isirr fo tr.w i- 

l)r()a(l plain 


• the 


It was 




hcxxl of the lake because it was marked all along by white 
glistening ice (lakes and dark spots where l)Uslies grow. 
.\t the end of July the river is said Id ri>e so high that it 
(annot Ix- crossed. So when letter^ have to be delivered 

to no 

the eastern foot of the 


mountri _, _.. 

weighted with a stone and thrown acr<»s a narrow part 
of the stream. 

The water of the lake is said to be as salt as that of 
the, and is not fit for drinking; but never- 
theless i)ilgrims drink it, Ik c ause it is holy. At this time 
the winter ice was breaking up, and long sheets of ice lay 
only at the shore. In contrast to most other lakes of 'lilx-t, 
the Dangra-yum-tso runs north and south, and it narrows 
in the middle, just as Xain Sing has drawn it on his map; 
but he has made the lake a little too large, and has 
esi)ecially exaggerated the dimensions of the southern 
basin. A horseman can travel round the lake in five 
ordinary or seven short days' journey; the i)ilgrim road 
closely follows the lake shore. The pilgrims alwavs make 
the circuit of the lake in the direction of the hands of a 
watch, if they arc orthodo.x; but if they Ixlong to the 
Pembo sect, like the monks of the Sershik-gompa, they 
l)egin their march in the opposite direction. Most of 
them come in late summer or autumn. I was told that 
the pilgrimage round the lake, which of course must 1)0 
made on foot, was in honour of Padma Sambhava, the 
saint who came to Tilx-t in the year 747, Ixcame the 
founder of Lamaism, and enjoys almost as great a rei)uta- 
tion as Buddha himself. He 'is called in Tilxt Lopon 
RinjK)chc, and his image is generally found in the temples. 

Sershik-gompa, of which we had frequently heard, and 
which Xain Sing names Sasik Gombas on his map, stands 
on an even slope at the eastern foot of the mountain. 
The monastery is under the Devashung, and has twenty 
r\mbo brethren and an abbot named Tibha. Some o'f 
the monks are said to be well off, but on the whole the 




, : not rich- it is sui.portf.1 by nomads in Xaktsan-, 
^f-V" f't,nc 1^ i' a- contains {imi,cr tran.portcl 

Tl:^^:^ t ;srr:2',:' an., ^:;^i/ ;^ pf ^ ^, - , . 

can al.o ix traMiic ^^^^^^^^^^^ ,,^ ^^^^ p,^,^^^,) ,vhich 1k'> 

and the miiihty range on the west 

crossed, namely the_ 
between 'I'argo-gangri 
of the Shuru-tso. 
The short, loftv. 

lottv. meridional range which '^\ '^'f'^^ 

' r'7"„r Ihc r i m'.rkt..l Tursot Sangpo on h.s 

Z tidfuKs'r nom.l. namcJ .no holy n,oun.a,n 
'^''on' TK'v l.a.k I took levels, assisted by UoUrt, and 


Sne irTarRo-Ransri skirted the ^vestern shore a. a 
''^■"irAe ni,ht there «s a noise like an avalanrte 

^j!;-^:rir-iS^s,t.i^r Jl^ir ^ 
?;rirT'h^^:i^s4"':«r's^^^t^r^^ ^n 

■-'^r-;™!;;t '^rr-Sluhleso^e friends ^hey 
„,.,r,Z.oL.raohe.l on horseback ( llustrat.on ^oi). Th.y 
alVwIre roomy, dark cerise-c.loured niamks, and, u,„.,i 






?s.' y-aM^?S 









the bareheaded Largcp men, a bandage round the head, in 
many cases drawn through silver rings Hki bangles. One 
had a tall white hat like a truncated cone, with a flat brim, 
a head-covering I remembered seeing in Xakchu. Their 
guns, with the military pennants on the forks, they had 
slung over their shoulders, and their sabres stuck out 
horizontally from their girdles in silver-bound scabbards 
decorated with three pieces of imitation coral. Over the 
left shoulder some carried a whole bandolier of gao cases 
with glass fronts, through which were visible the little 
innocent gods which bring their wearers good fortune on 
their journey. Their fat little horses stamped and snorted, 
longing for their old well-known pastures on the shores of 
the Kyaring-tso. They also were decked with needlessly 
heavy but dainty ornaments. The white horses with red 
riders on iheir backs made a particularly striking picture. 
It was a varied scene in the blazing sunshine, with the 
snowy summits of Targo-gangri as a background and Nain 
Sing's lake to the north. I begged them to greet Hlaje 
Tsering heartily from me, and tell him that I hoped to see 
him again. 

And then they struck their heels into their horses, 
drew together into close order, and trotted gaily up to the 
level surfaces of the river terraces. Captivated by the 
appearance of the departing troop I ran after it^ and 
watched the dark column grow smaller at the red spur, 
where the old shore lines seemed to run together. 
Singular people I They rise like goblins from the depths 
of their valleys, they come one knows not whence, they 
like us, visit for a few short days the foot of the snowy 
mountain, and then they vanish again like a whirlwind 
in the dust of the horses' hoofs and beyond the mysterious 

We, too, set out, and I left the Dangro-yum-tso to its 
fate, the dark-blue waters to the blustering storm and the 
song of the rising waves, and the eternal snowfields to the 
whisper of the winds. May the changing colours of the 
seasons, the beauty of atmospheric effects of light and 
shade, gold, purple, a-'.d grey, pass over Padma Sambhava's 
lake amidst rain ainl sunshine, .^s already for untold 






thousands of years, and the steps of believing, yearning 
pilgrims draw a chain around its shores. 

Accompanied l)y Rolx'rt and our aged guide, I rode 
across the river, which carries alx)Ut 140 cubic feet of water, 
and uj) to a spur of Targo-gangri in order to procure a 
rock specimen. One glacier tongue after another of the 
long series on the east side of the mountain passes out of 
sight, and now the gap disappears through which we had 
seen a corner of the lake, and far away to the north on its 
other side the outlines of light blue mountains. 

Six hundred sheep were grazing on a slope without 
shepherds. Now and then a hare was started in the thick 
tufts of steppe grass. From the screes on our right 
was heard the pleasant chirp of partridges. When we 
were far away two shepherds came up out of a gorge and 
drove the sheep down to the river. At the lower end of 
the moraine of a glacier stood a solitary tent. I asked 
our old man whac the spot was called, but he swore by 
three different gods that he had no notion. The most 
southern outskirt of Targo-gangri hid the rest of the 
range, but Ixfore we reached camp No. 151 it appeared 
again foreshortened. This camp stood on the left bank of 
the river. 

May I. Spring is come; we have, indeed, had as 
much as 29 degrees of frost during the preceding nights, 
but the days are fine and clear, and it is never as trying 
as in the Chang-tang, even riding ag.-'inst the wind. At 
camp No. 150 we had been at a height of 15,446 feet; now 
we go slowly down, following the river at first, but leaving 
it on the left when we see it emerge from the mountains 
as through a gate. Over a singularly uniform and con- 
tinuous plain without fissures or undulations we now 
approach in a south-westerly direction the threshold which 
separates the Shuru-tso from the Dangra-yum-tso. On 
the south-west side of Tangro-gangri appear six glaciers, 
much smaller than those on the north and east, and rather 
to be regarded as spurs and corners of the ice mantle 
which covers the higher regions of the massive. The 
Shuru-tso is seen as a fine blue line. VV^e approach its 
shore and find that the lake is completely frozen over. 




I \ 

■^ I 






We make a halt to photograph and to draw a panorama. 
Our old man smokes a pipe, and Robert and Tashi try 
which can snore loudest. When I am ready we sneak ofT 
quietly from the two sleepers. Tashi is the first to awake, 
understands the joke, and also sneaks off. At last Robert 
awakes and finds himself alone, but he soon overtakes us 

on his mule. ^^ , 

Now we have the lake close on our right. lo the 
south rise grand mountains, one of the loftiest chains of 
the Trans-Himalaya, raven black Ix-neath the sun, but the 
firn fields glitter with a metallic lustre. Considerable 
terraces skirt the bank, and the valleys running down from 
the east to the lake cut through them, forming hollow 
ways in which a solitary tent stands here and there 
guarded by a savage dog. Wc encamp on the terrace 
above the Parva vallev, our eight black tents contrastmg 
strongly with the yellow soil (i 5,594 f^^et). Our old Tibetans 
from Kyangdam now bid us farewell and receive double 
payment as a present. In front of us are the congealed 
waters of the Shuru-tso, longing to be released by the 
warm spring winds; to the south rises the Do-tsengkan, 
a mighty elevation clothed in eternal snow; in the south- 
west the sun sinks behind the huge crest of the mountains 
and the shadows pass silently across the ice. Soon the 
evening red lingers only on the peaks of Targo-gangri and 
Do-tsengkan, and then another night falls over the earth. 
It is a pity that the Tibetans do not understand the 
relations of the sun and the planets, for they might regard 
the solar system as a unique immeasurable prayer mill 
revolving in space to the glory of the gods. In the dark- 
ness the lofty mountains to the north-west are misty and 
indistinct, but when the moon rises they and the lake are 
illuminated alike and seem to be connected. From our 
terrace we seem to have a bottomless abyss below us. 

On May 2 wc ride southwards along the shore (Illus- 
tration 205). Like the Dangra-yum-tso, the Shuru-tso runs 
almost north and south, lying in a longitudinal valley which 
has this direction, so unusual in Tibet. There is open water 
along the bank, and the waves splash against the cdgi- of 
the porous ice, on which wild ducks sit, often in long rows. 

VOL. 11 ° 




Owing to the swell the water on the bank is black with 
decayed alf,';e and rotting water-weeds, in which wild gcesc 
cackle and scream. As we come to the regularly curved 
southern shore of the lake, with its bank of sand, we see the 
well-known signs of a storm on the plain Ix'forc us, white dust 
swirls, stirred up in spirals from the ground by the wind, 
like the smoke of a shot. After a time we find ourselves 
in the path of the storm — it will not need many such 
storms to break up the whole lake and drive its loosened 
ice-sheets to the eastern bank. We ride across the river 
Kyangdam-tsangpo, which comes from the Trans-Hima- 
laya, and bivouac on its western terrace 15,548 feet. Here 
we have the whole lake in front of us to the north, and 
behind it Targo-gangri, now smaller again. 

Here our attendants were changed. The Largep 
chief, who had been so overbearing at first, was as meek 
as a lamb at the moment of parting, and gave me a kadakh, 
a sheep, and four skins of butter. Every morning when 
the caravan sets out Ishe comes to my tent to fetch my 
two puppies; Muhamed Isa has the third, which he means 
to train up to be a wonderful animal, and the fourth has 
been consigned to Sonam Tsering. They have grown a 
deal already, and howl and bite each other on the march, 
when they ride in a basket on the back of a mule. They 
are graceful and playful, and give me great amusement 
with their tricks. 

From the little pass Dunka-la we had a grand and 
instructive view over the great Shuru-tso, which is of a 
somewhat elongated form and is convex to the west. 
Next day we crossed the pass Ben -la in a south-westerly 
storm. It raged and blew day and night, but the air 
remained quite clear. On the 6th we rode up a steep 
path to the Angden-la. In the rather deep snow and the 
tiring rubbish the horses can get on only c. step at a time, 
and have often to stop and rest. Tsering rides past us 
with his yak caravan, and four Ladakis have stayed behind 
in the vall'^y suffering from acute headache. At the top 
of the pass (18,514 feet) stands a huge cairn with strings and 
>lieanK-i>, their pra\er.^ rising to the dwellings of the gods 
on the wings of the wind (Illustrations 209, 210, 207). 


■-."^l;=-->^,=*Si-v3?i ' 

i&siK^r- :«?^^ae4^. 



No words ra-' dcscrilK- the- [.anorama around us. Wc 
stand alx)vc- a sea of mountains ith hire and there a 
predominant |>eak. To the M)Ulh w see tie Himalayas 
deanr and sharper than Ixfore, and can percei\e where 
the valley of the Brahmaputra runs on this side of the 
white ridge. To the north the Sliuru-tso is much ^ore- 
shortened, and the is hidden by Targo- 
gangri, which is sharply defined, though we are si.x days' 
journey from it. Nay, even the contours of the miglity 
mountains on the north-ea t shor^ of the lake, which we 
saw in winter from the north, are istinguishahle, and they 
lie fully ten days' journey from liere. I sit at the fire, 
drawing and making observations, as on all the passes. 
I am again on the Tr.'s Himalaya, 53 miles from the 
Chang la-Pod-la, and now cross it for the third time. 
Northwards the water drains to the Shuru-tso, southwards 
to the Raga-tsangpo. My feet stand on the oceanic water- 
shed, my eyes roam over this huge system, which I love 
as my own possession. For the part where I now stand 
was unknown and waited millions of years for my coming, 
lashed by innumerable storms, washed by autumn rains, 
and wrapped in snow in winter. With every new pass on 
the watershed of the gigantic rivers of India which I have 
the good fortune to cross, my desire and hope become 
ever greater to follow its winding line westwards to 
regions already known, and to fill up on the map the 
great white blank north of the Tsangpo. I know very 
well that generations of explorers will be necessary to 
examine this mighty, intricate mountain land, but my 
ambition will be satisfied if I succeed in making the 
first reconnaissance. 

We leave the cairn and the fire, its smoke covering 
the summit of the pass as with a torn veil, and follow the 
brook, of which the water will some day reach the warm 
sea after a thousand experiences. I turn a page and 
begin a new chapter in my life as an explorer; the 
desolate Chang-tang remains behind me, and Tarj:o- 
gangri sinks below the horizon — shall I ever see its 
majestic peaks again? 

We descend rapidly with the wind in our faces. Large 

-4MP-" !«flW-J*!i^ 



i ? 

1)1()( ks of ice fill the valliy iKiltom iKtwccn walls of I'lark 
sthi>ts and [xjrphyry. Srvcral larj,'e >i(le valle\s opin 
into ours, and discrtni licartiis air signs of tlir visits of 
nomads in summer. Our valley unili-s with the large 
Kyamihu valKy, which i> h miles broad an<l descemls 
from the Sha la, the pass of the i'rans Himalaya over 
which our TilKtans had wished to guide us. The land 
round the nomad tents of Kyam is tlat and open. 

On May 7 we march on in a terrible wind with the 
blue mirror of the Amchok-tso on the south. The ground 
is Hat and hard. .\ hare runs like the wind, as if his life 
were in danger, over this llat, where he cannot find the 
slightest cover. Eight sprightly antelopes show us their 
graceful profiles as they spring lightly along, rising from 
the horizon against a background of sky. Robert has 
drawn his fur over his head, and sits in the saddle like 
a lady, with both his legs dangling on the sheltered side, 
while Tashi leads his mule. Hut as the wind still blows 
through him. he lays himself on his stomach across the 
saddle. My hors^' sways when the wind catches the broad 
breast cf its rider. 'Ihe wind howls and moans in my ears, it 
whines and whistles as it used to do in the Chang-tang, 
a whole host of indignant spirits of the air seem to com- 
plain of all the misery they have seen in the world. 

The plain is called Amchok-tang, and wc march over it, 
following the main stream. Amchok-yung is a village of 
five tents, where are some fine mauis Ix'decked with yak 
skulls, antelope horns, and s!al)s of sandstone, one of them, 
of a regular rectangular form, measuring 40 inches. The 
inhabitants of the village disappeared as if by magic; only 
an old man gave us his company as we inspected two of 
the tents. But when wc had ridden on, the people crept 
out again from behind dung heaps, hillocks, and grass 
tufts, where they had hidden themselves. 

The wind bores thick yellow sand out of the ground 
into a spout, which is so dense that it looks black on the 
shady side. It winds up in cyclonic spirals like the smoke 
of a tremendous explosion, and, like a strange ghost, dances 
across the plain, and does not fall to pieces till it reaches 
the foot of the eastern mountains. 




'^^^rt az^m'^^x 


l^ \i 





In our camp of day, situatt-il on the north-west 

shore of the AmchoV we heard Chinese and Tibetan 

officials spoken of wl ere shortly to ride through the 
country in all directions counting the tents, people and 
herds. It was thought that this inspection was connected 
with the new taxation which the Chinese intend to intro- 

My boat lay ready on the strand, for May 8 was to be 
devoted to an excursion on the Amchok-tso. 



The lake was free from ice, and only on the northern shore 
some blocks rocked on the surf. A south-west wind swept 
constantly over the country, and there was no prospect of 
good weather. A dozen Tibetans followed me at a respect- 
ful distance. I begged them to come nearer and sx-e us 
start The boat was brought down to the water, Rehim 
AH and Shukkur took their i)laces, and Lama earned me 
to the boat through the slowly deepening water A pro- 
montory to the south, 34° E., was L;ed as our goal, and he 
oarsmen began their struggle witu the waves. For the 
first hour the lake was so shallow that the oars s ruck 
the bottom and stirred up mky-black mud. Shukkur 
cries out in time with the oars, "Shubasa ya afenn, bis- 
millah, va barkadiallah" - to cite only a few vyords of his 
inexhaustible repertoire. Rehim All's oar gives me a 
splash as it dips in, but I am soon dry again in the wind 
The swell stirs up the mud from the bottom, and the 
water is so shallow that the waves show a tendency to 
break even out in the middle of the lake. 

Now the sandspouts begin their threatening dance on 
the western shore, and in that direction the water gleams 
white The storm sweeps over the Amchok-tso, and the 
two Mc.hammedans must put forth all their strength to 
f„rc- the boat forward against win.l and water. 1 he 
swell grows heavier, the depth is 7.9 feet, and the water 
assumes a greener In.e. Shukkur .AH. our old hsherman, 
puts out his line, l>ut nothing but floating alga; will bite. 



Asi.l'KN 1 \, A r X---' "^ 

Ml Ik \\> Him .1. \\ 






In several places arc seen wild ducks, gulls, and wild-pccse. 
Nomads have just arrived and are putting up their tents 
in a gorge on the eastern shore. At length we reach the 
promontory, having sounded a maximum depth of only 12 


After observations have been taken, a panorama 
sketched, and dinner eaten, we again set off in a northerly 
direction, and the txxit dances Ufore the brisk wind 
lightly as a wild duck ovi the waves. We sail past 
three more tents, sound 10.2 feet, and approach the 
northern shore, where the water is only 20 inches deep, 
and is a muddy soup. We run aground at a distance of 
100 yards from the bank. Rabsang comes up running, 
leading my horse by the bridle, and some other Ladakis 
follow him. They "help us to land, and light a much 
needed fire at the foot of the sand terrace which here 
rises from the bank. 

The river Kyam-chu enters the Amchok-tso on the 
north side, and only i\ miles to the west of its muddy 
delta the Dongmo-chu flows out of the lake towanls its 
confluence with the Raga-tsangpo in the east. Properly 
speaking, the Dongmo is only the continuation of the 
Kyam-chu, with the lake hanging like a bag on its right 

After the teat has been folded up, Muhamed Isa has 
to show us the way on horseback over the grass-grown 
sandhills. He guides me across the twenty shallow and 
treacherously swampy delta arms of the Kyam-chu. 
It is dark, but a beacon fire nas been lighted in the camp, 
and the cakes of dung are hi ated to whiteness in the 
strong wind, and shine like electric light. 

Next day I was up before the sun, in order to take an 
observation.' The thermometer had sunk in the night to 
0.3°, and the wind blew regularly as a trade-wind. It is 
pleasant to see the day dawn in the east. and_ life begin 
anew among the tents. ' The hired yaks have lain tethered 
during the night, and now they are allowed to wander 
freely over the pasture. Sleepy yawns are heard in the 
tents, and men come out and make uj) the fires; the jug 
bubbles in which the morning tea is stirred up with butter, 




ami kettles arc set on three stones over the fire. The 
puppies play in the open, and are glad that they have not 
to roll al)out to-day in a basket. 

The da}s and months fly by to a chorus of storms, and 
sf.ring still delays its coming. In the evening songs of 
the Ladakis I fancy I hear an undertone of home sickness, 
and they rejoice at every day's march which brings us a 
little further westwards. When wv woke ne.xt morning, 
it blew as fresh as ever, and Robert had made himself a 
mask with Tibetan spectacles sewed into the eye-holes; 
he looked very comical in this contrivance, which was very 
appropriate in this land of religious masquerades. 

The road, ascending the broad valley of the Pu-chu, 
led over open, slightly undulating ground to Sermelartsa. 
Here old Guffaru was reported sick; he suffered from 
colic, and was well nursed. But late at night Robert 
came breathless to my tent to tell me the old man was 
dying. When I came to the tent the son, whose duty it 
was to keep the shroud read), sat weeping lx;side his 
father, while the other men warmed their caps over the 
fire and applied them to the body of the patient. I 
oniered him a cold compress, but he askcfl me, to the 
intense amusement of others, just to go back to my tent 
again. Muhamed Isa laughed till he rolled over; Guffaru 
.sat upright on his bed, moaned and groaned, and Ix^gged 
mc to go away. I gave him a strong dose of opium, and 
next morning he was so brisk that he walkeci all the way, 
though a horse was at his disposal. The remains of 
Burroughs and Wellcome's medicine chest had saved his 
life; he was thankful and pleased that his shroud was not 
required this time. 

OnMay ii we mounted to the pass Lungring (17,697 feet) 
in a bitterly cold snowstorm, and descended the valley of the 
same name to the l)ank of the upper Raga-tsangpo. On 
the 1 2th we marcherl upstream; the valley is broad, and 
is bounded on the north by great mountains. The ther- 
mometer had sunk to -0.8°, and the storm was dead 
against us. Occasionally it abated so much that we could 
hear the footfalls of the horses on the detritus, but we 
were Ix'numk'd when we came to the camp. Thick snow 

i 1 





ffll all the aftt-rnoon. My [nippies sat toptthcr in the 
tint door and j^rowUd at iIk- failing' llakcs, hut when they 
saw it was no use, they snajiped at the llakes as though 
they were Hies and pawed at them. Then they went back 
into the tent, lay on the frieze blanket in the corner, and 
let it snow on. 

On the next day's march wc passed Kamba-sumdo, 
where the two head sources of the Raga tsangpo unite; 
the one, coming from the west, is named Chang shung, 
the other, from the south-west, Lo-shung, i.e. "Xorthern" 
and "Southern Valley." The Chang-shung is the larger. 
The Lo-shung we had to cross twice, and found the Ix'd 
full of stones connected by slippery ice. In the west a 
large snow-covered ridge appeared, the Chomo-uchong, 
or "High Xun," which was discovered by Xain Sing. 
Ryder measured it and produced an exact map of it. 
Belts of snow descend from the white summits down the dark 
flanks. Other Tibetans called it Choor-jong (Illustration 212), 

Still marching south-westwards we approached at an 
acute angle the great main road between Lhasa and 
Ladak, the so-called lasam. As though to show its 
importance a caravan was just at the time travelling west- 
wards in three columns. It moved so slowly through the 
landscape that we had to watch the mountain spur behind 
to convince ourselves that the small black lines were moving 
at all. Soon afterwards we pitched our tents in Raga-tasam 
(16,234 feet), a station on the great high road, where we 
came in contact with the rente of the Knglish expedition 
under Ryder and Rawling for the first time since leaving 
Shigatse. Whatever the immediate future had in store 
for me, it was above all things my desire to avoid this 
route as much as possible. For the map which Ryder and 
\Voo<l had executed is the 1«.'st that has l)een surveyed of 
any part of Tibet; I could add nothing new to it with my 
modest equipment. But if I passed to the north or south 
(jf their Une of march, I could supplement their map with 
my own explorations. In this I actually so far succeeded 
that out of eighty-three days' marches to Tokchen on the 
Manasarowar only two-and-a-half days' march ran along 
their route. 




As I now ptrrrivid that \w should have to travel on 
thi' road uliich \ain Siii^ in thr yiar i-H^s, and Ryder 
and Kawlinj^ and lluir coniradi^ in i<;04, hail |)as>(.d 
alont;, 1 WTotf, after consultation with koUrt and 
Muhami'd Isa, to Tanj^ Darin and Lien D.irin in Lhasa. 
I npresented in an urgent ajipeal to the former, the 
Ilif^h Commissioner, that it ould not dash with any 
treaty if I, being already in Tiljet, travelled to Ladak by 
one road or another, |)roviiled that I aetually did go 
thither, and that I therefore Ixgged permission to take 
the following route: I wished to take my homeward way 
past the lake Tidenam-tso, of which Xain Sing had heard, 
then to visit the Dangra yum tso, and thence to proceeil 
to Tradum and to the (jhalaring tso, the holy mountain 
Kailas, the Manasarowar lake, the sources of the Indus 
and the Brahmaputra, and lastly Gartok. To the other, 
the Amban (;f Lhasa, I also wrote al)<)Ut the way I desired 
to take, and promised to send him a nport about it from 
(Jartok. I told Ijoth that I wished fc^r a s[)eedy answer, 
and would wait for it in Raga-tasam. 

As soon as I had come to a decision, I called Tundup 
Sonam and Tashi, and told them to get their sleep over by 
midniglit. Then I wrote the al)ove-mentioned letters and 
letters to my parents and 'o ^hljor O'Connor. When my 
corresjjondence was ready, it was past midnight. The 
camp had lain several hours in sleep when I marie the 
ni^ht watchman wa! en the two messengers and Muhamed 
Isa. Their orders were such as they had never received 
Ixfore. They were to travtl day and night along the 
220 miles to Shigatse and hand over my letters to Ma. 
They need lot wait for an answer, for I had asked the 
Mandarins to send me sjiecial couriers. Provisions they 
need not take, for they \\ould be able to git everything 
on the great high-road, and I gave them money to hire 
the horses they required. They .vould be able to reach 
their journey's end in ten days, and in a month we ought 
to have an answer. If they did not find us in Raga- 
tasam on their return, they v. ere to follow in our track. 

Tunduj) Sonam and i'ashi were in g(Kxl spirits and 
full of hope when Muhamed Isa and I accompanied them 




outside tin- camp, and watched them disappear intn the 
(hirk night. They niacK- a (Utour to avoid the twelve 
hla(k tents standing' hire, lest the numerous dops of the 
viHage should bark. It was not far to the great high-road, 
and at the next tasani, as the stations are called, they 
could hire horses at daybreak. Muhamed Isa and I sat 
a while in my tent in lively conversation alxmt our 
prospects. Not till I had crept into Ud after a tiring 
day dir' it occur to me that it was f)erhaps cruel to let 
the two men ride alone ilay and night through TiK-t, 
Hut it was too late, they must now fulfil their mission. 

There was no hurry now. We stayed here seven 
days. Westwards the way was open, but not the way 
I wished tf) take, and therefore we were [)risoners in our 
own tents. "Patience," whispered the ceaseless winds. 
The unknown land lay to the north; I could not give it up 
till all my elTorts had proved fruitless. We had cold un- 
pleasant weather, with frec|uently more than 36 degrees of 
frost, and on the night of May 15 as much as 46.4 degrees. 
The Til)etans said that this neigh bourhoo<l is always cold, 
even when spring reigns all around. 

I lay on my Ix-d and read David Coppcrfidd, Dombey 
and Son, and The Nmronics, for I had now a whole 
lib; iry to read through, the gift of the obliging Major 
O'Connor. Rolxrt gave me lessons in Hindustani, and 
I drew types of the i)eople. A i)uppy of the same age as 
our own warily came u[) to my tent and got a breakfast. 
Mamma Pup{)y was by no means please<l with this wayside 
guest, who looked comical, as shy and quiet as a mouse; 
he sat by the hour together at the fire and looked at me, 
at length falling asleep and turning on his side. When 
he appcaral again at dinner, he was thoroughly worried 
by Puppy, but nevertheless went calmly to the family mat 
and laid himself down. Puppy was furious, but so dum- 
founded at this unexi)cctcHj imi)udencc that she laid herself 
down on the ground Ix'side the mat. 

TilK-tans came every day to my tent and imf)lored us 
to make a start. When this proved useless, they declared 
at length that the> lould no longer supply us with pro- 
visions, for nc more were to Ix; had in the neighljourho(xJ. 






;- iiiM 

I: i^ 

•- i40 


[1 2.2 







■^.' •*82 - 0300 Phofi« 







I asked them, as an experiment, whether they woulc' 
forward two letters to the Mandarins in Lhasa, but they 
replied that they had n(j authority to do this. They were 
much astonished when they heard that I had sent off 
letters five days previously. For two days I lay in bed, 
for 1 was (juite at an end of my strength, and made 
Rolxjrt read to me. 

On Whitsunday, May 19. wc had another long palaver. 
The Tilx'tans read to me the instructions they had re- 
ceived from Lhasa, which were dated "on the tenth day 
of the second month in the year of the fiery sheep." I, 
was there called Hedin Sahib, and the orders contained 
the following clauses: "Send him out of the country. 
Let him not turn aside from the tasam, and guide him 
neither to the right nor to the left. Supply him with 
horses, yaks, servants, fuel, grass, and everything he 
wants. The prices he must pay are the usual prices fixed 
bv the Government. Give him at once anything he asks 
for and refuse him nothing. But if he will not conform 
to the directions on his passport, but says he will take 
other routes independently, give him no provisions, but 
keep firm hold of him and send off messengers at once 
to the Devashung. Do not venture to think for your- 
selves, but olx.\v. -Any one in the provinces who docs not 
obey will Ik- Ix-aten ; so run the regulations you have to 
conform to. If he gives no trouble, see that the nomads 
serve him well and do him no harm on the way to Gartok. 
Then it will be the business of the Garpuns (the two 
\'icerovs) to take him under their protection." 

And vet I was not satisfied. I told them that I could 
not think of conforming to my passport, which was con- 
trary to my religion, and that I must go northwards from 
the Chomo'-uchong to Saka-<lzong. They were quite at 
lilxTty to send messengers to the Devashung. We would 
wait. Then they held a council, and at length agreed 
to let us take the northern route, but wc must set out 
on Mav 21. 

I lav on mv k'd and dreamed of the tramp of horses 
coming iujiii Imiii liic ca>i <unl me uCm, in inc roacis 
oi)en to me to the mysterious mountain system in the north, 



■■■f ;^'^?^H}^ 







round which my plans and my dreams circled continually 
like young eagles. 

So we set out on May 21, north-westwards, and saw 
the summits of the Chomo-uchong disappear iK'hind its 
outskirts. From the camp we could see several valleys 
in the north-west drained by the source streams of the 
Raga-tsangiK). Just Ix-vond Raga-tasam we again left 
the route of the EngUsh exjxxJition, and on the 22nd 
climbed up to the pass Ravak-la, which lies on a low 
ridge between two of the source streams of the Raga- 
tsangpo. On the 23rd we crossed four passes. The 
Kichung-la is the watershed betv.cen the Raga-loshung 
and the Chungsang, a river which takes an indejx^ndent 
course to the Tsangjx). The ascent to the fourth pass, 
the Kanglung-la, was very tiresome, the ground consist- 
ing of wet alluvium, wherein the horses sank so deep 
that we preferred to go on foot and splash through the 
mud. We were now on the heights whence the water 
flows down to three of the northern tributaries of the 
Brahmaputra; the third flows to the Chaktak-t.sangpo, 
which runs to the west of Saka-dzong. Here and there 
the snow, owing to wind, melting and freezing again, has 
assumed the form of upright blades, two feet high and 
sharp as a knife. Far to the south appear parts of the 
Himalayas, and we are here in a grand landscape of wild 
and fantasac relief. Now and then the view is obscured by 
dense showers of hail. 

On the morning of the 24th all the country was 
hidden by thickly falling snow, and the weather at the 
end of May was more winterly than on the Chang-tang 
in December. We ride between steep cliffs down a 
deeply eroded valley, and side valleys run in with narrow 
deep openings. In one of them is a frozen waterfall. We 
often cross the clear water of the river which rushes along 
on its way to Saka-dzong and the Chaktak-tsangpo. 
Violent gusts of snow sweep through the valley from time 
to time, and then we can hardly see our hands and the 
ground, and the mountains become white. In the Ix-autiful 
junction of valleys called Pangsetak our tents and those of 
tilt Tibetans were heavily wciglited with snow'. 

. »X;. )r.-. ; 






On the 25lh we Ro down further. Xomad tents arc as 
rare as on the ])re(e(hng (lays, for people come here only 
in summer. The jtath runs frecjuintly up alon^ the left 
terrace, hij^h alcove the valley l)otlorn. where the river has 
formed two larj^e basins of dark <ireen water. We amused 
ourselves with rollin-^ stones down the steep sloix.^; they 
kmxked against other Ujulders, dashed with a thundering,' 
noise into the valley, tearing u\) sand and dust, l)ounced 
up from the ground', and finally jilunged into the basin, 
raising a cloud of spray. It was childish but very diverting. 
The valley passes into a ])lain, in the southern part of 
which runs the great high-roail Ijctween Raga-tasam and 
Saka-clzong. The river we iiail lollowed down is the 
Kanglung-bui)chu, but in Saka it is called Sachu-tsang])o. 
We jMtched our camp in the mouth of the valley Basang 
on the north side of the plain. 

From here to Saka-dzong is a short day's journey. 
But, instead of travelling along this road which Ryder has 
already laid down on his majj, I wished to see the jjlace 
where the Chaktak-tSiingpcj unites with the upper 
Brahmaputra. That would involve a long detour of four 
days' journey, and to this our friends from Raga would 
not consent witliout the permission of the Governor of 
Saka. We therefore stayed a day in the Basang valley, 
while a messenger was sent to him. When the answer 
came it was, to our surprise, in the afl'irmative, but under 
the condition that the main i)art of the caravan should 
proceed straight to Saka-dzong. I even received a local pass- 
port for the excursion. 

Among other natives who at this time sat for mc as 
mcxlels was a youth of twenty years, named Ugyu. wlio 
had lived some years before with his mother and sisters in 
a valley to the north, where their tent was attacked and 
pillaged bv robbers. They had defended themselves 
bravely with sabres and knives, but the robber band had 
had firearms, and Ugyu had been struck by a bullet, 
which had passed through his shoulder-blade and lung, 
ami had come out at his breast. Large scars showed the 
course of the bullet. When one rememlx-rs that the 
leaden bullets of the Tibetans are as large as hazel-nuts, 





one is astonished that tht- l)oy did not die of internal 
lia'morrha^^e. He appeared, on the contiary. i^xtraor- 
(h'narily heahhy and l;Ioomin;,'. and had an amiable, sym- 
j)athetic disi)o>ition. 

I sat on a barley sack Ixfore Muhamerl Isa's tent and 
sketched. Meanwhile, the baggage and provisions wito 
made ready for the excursion. My excellent caravan 
leadir stood, tall and .straight as a pole, watching the 
others filling the sacks wc were to take with us. He had 
the Ixxil al>o and everything we wanted for rivir mea>ure- 
ments packed up. In the evening he arranged a farewell 
ball for Tsering, Shukkur .Mi. Rabsang, l>lam .\hun. and 
I^he, who were to acr()m|)any RoUrt ;ind me to the 
Tsangpo. He had bought in Shigatse a large fme guitar, 
on which he played himself in his tent. This evening the 
dancing and singing went olT more gaily and menily than 
ever. We expected goaJ news from Lhasa, and were glad 
that the people in Saka hail granted the permi.ssion 1 had 
asked for. 

On the morning of May 27 the weather was really fine- 
after a minimum of only 23°; had the spring come at last? 
The main caravan had already gone olT westwards to Saka, 
and my j)arty was ready when Muhamed Isa came to say 
farewell. He was ordered to remain in Saka till I rt'- 
turned. ami to try by all means to gain the confidence 
of the official.s by friendliness and f)rudent conduct. My 
small caravan was on the road to the south, and we stood 
alone on_ the deserted camping-ground. After he had 
received his instructions we mounted into our saddles at 
the same time and I rode after my men. I turned once 
more in the saddle and saw Muhamed Isa's statelv form 
upright on his grey horse, his pipe in his mouth, his green 
velvet cap on his head, and the black sheepskin loose on 
his shoulder, trotting quickly in the track of the caravan. 
It was the last time I saw him thus. 

Soon we cross the great high-road, the lasam, and ride 
slowly up to the pass Gyebuk-la (15-846 feet), marked by four 
nnniis, which are covered with green tlags of schist with incised 
Buddha images. Th 

XK't '! I _ w( irr* t ^;i f H 

K^j-l ♦l-\t-(-.,. /irt ••» «><i *« .1 

of yaks, which arc just coinin.ti; over the pass on the way to 

'.'jf-.-vx;, I V;,. 'fvT. .>- 



LH \P. 

l! 1 

Saka (Izon^, show us that this is an important trade route. 
Two of the caravans came from the j^reat town Tsongka- 
dzon-,' whicli lier, five (lay>' journey M)Uthwar(l>, not far 
from"lhe frontier of Xepaf. From Saka the caravans 1^0 
over the Gvehuk-hi, cross the lirahmai)Utni, ascend the 
Samderling vailev, and l)y the Sukpu la and iNe,t,'U hi 
passes reach 'IVon^ka-dz-onj,', which supjilies the nomatls 
living in the nortli with barley. From (lyelaik la there is 
a grand view over the sharj) ])eaks and the glacier tongues 
of the Chomo uchong. On the x.uthern >lopes of the pass 
there are pawa bushes almost everywhere, and it is pleasant 
to see their fre^h green needles again. 

The road run;, down the KytTkye valley. On a 
smooth wail of rock "Om mani padmehum" is hewn in 
characters a vard high. At camp Xo. 167 the Tibetans of 
the neight)()urhood came kindly to meet me and l)id me 
welcome, and two of them led' my horse by the bridle to 
my tent, as is the custom in this country. 

Ne.xt day we march down the valley with fresh guides, 
and see several ruins telling of hai)i)ier times now 
gone by. Terraced structures for irrigating the fields 
indicate' that barley is grown in the district. In front of 
us is now the bnnid valley of the Bralimaputra, and we 
come to an arm of the river where a ferry is established to 
transport caravans and goods on the way bi'tween Tsongka- 
dzong and Saka-dzong from one side of the river to the 

other. . 

Camp Xo. 168 was pitched at the extremity of the 
tongue of gravel between the two rivers. The Chaktak- 
tsangpo had here a breadth of 02.2 feet, a ma.ximuni depth 
of 2.4 feet, an average velocity of 4.56 feet, and a discharge 
of 664 cubic feet per second. Its water was almost Cjuite 
clear, and in conseciuence of its greater velocity forced its 
way far into the muddy water of the Brahmaputra. The 
latter had at mid-day' a temjjerature of 48.9°, while the 
water of the tributary was a little warmer, namely, 49-8°- 
Our companions told' us that all who come to the great 
river drink of the water, because it comes from the holy 
mountain Kailas, or Rang rinpovhv, in tlic far wtst. 

Shukkur Ali sat with his ground line at a deep bay 




with >li)\v nldics and pulkd out of tlu- water ten firu' fish, 
a species of >!K'at with four >oft IxirNs. Hr had raw meat 
as bait on his I'lVf hooks; at one end of the line a stone 
was tied, so that it eoiild Ix.- thrown far out into deep water, 
and the other end was made fast to a pe^' <iriven in to the 
hank, and a >tone was hiid on the line so lightly in the 
fork of the pei,' that it fell when a fi-h bit. The fisherman 
ean then occujiv himself meanwhile with some manual work, 
such a> mending shoes. lie puts his lish in a small en- 
closed ba>in. The fl^h had white flesh, and were delicate. 

On Mav 2Q we nuasured the main river at a place 
where a low i>land diviijes it into two channels 175.5 *'"*' 
iSo.4 feet broad ri>pe( lively, with a maximum depth of 
3.S feet. Here the Brahmaputra carries 23,52 cubic fiet of 
water, and 3196 after receivinj^ the Chaktak-tsangpo. At 
the confluence of the Dok chu we had found only 2966 
cubi( feet, but the measurement was made a month and a 
half earlier. The ratio of the Hrahmaputra to the Dok- 
clui was 5:2, and of the Hrahmaputra to the Chaktak- 
tsangpo 7:2. 'I'he Dok-chu is therefore considerably 
larj^er than the Chaktak-tsan^'po. 

On May 30 we followed the broad valley of the 
Chaktak-tsangpo towards the north-west and west-north- 
west till we came to a district named Takbur, whence we 
intended to ride next day over the Takbur-la to Saka- 
dzong. Hut it did not come otT, for before I was 
awakened, came a chief with five attendants and made a 
horrible disturijance with my men and our Tibetans from 
Kyerkye. The latter he Ix'at with the flat of his sword, 
and he took away from the former the milk and butter they 
had bouf^ht the evening before, saying that no one had 
permission to sell us pnjvisions. He told Rolx-rt that he 
had orders not to let us pass through to Saka-dzong, and 
that he woukl make us stay here three months. We 
might not hire yaks also — which was very inconvenient, as 
we had only a horse and a mule after all the hired animals 
had gone. We might not buy provisions, but this was 
not of much conse(|Uence, for Robert had shot four wild- 
gee>e and found a large (juantity of eggs, and the river 
was full of fish. 





I accord inj^'ly sent Kl:ini .\luin and F^lic to Saka with a 
nu'^sa^'c that Mulianicil l-^a --hoiilil Mtid us I'lVi' horses 
imnndialclv. 'I'hiti I Niuiiinoiud the su|)crcili()U> ( hicf to 
inv tint, where he confirnud the account^ of my nitn. 
IK- (III land that I liad no ri^ht to deviate a single step 
from the ^reat hiiih road, and that thi- (ii>tri(t in whicli we 
were was under him, not under Saka d/onji, and tlierefore 
the local |)a^^|)<lrt was worthless. He intended to carry 
out the orders he had nctived, as he valued hi^ head. 
When I told him that I should report his uncivil Ixhaviour 
to the Mandarins in Lha>a, he jumped up and drew his 
sword threateninj^dy, hut when he saw that my composure 
could not l)e siiaken he quieted down. In the evening he 
came to till us that we mij^'ht cross the 'rakbur-la, and 
brnuf^ht us both yaks and provisions. Who he was we 
could never discover, for in Saka no one would acknow- 
ledge that he knew him. Perhaps it was only a childish 
attempt to cure me of further deviations from the main 
road. Ho'-ever. it was a jnty that we had lost a day 
here. When the morning of June i dawned, Islam Ahun 
and Ishe came with our horses, which we did not now 
need, and brought me greetings from Muhamed Tsa, who 
sent word that all was well with the caravan; they were 
on friendiv terms with the authorities, and were permitted 
to buy all they required. 

We set olt again northwards and marched through the 
Takbur valley, where there was abundance of game, hares, 
pheasants, and i)artridges — some of which Tsering shot, 
and foxes, marmots, and field-mice. In the distance we 
saw a grey prowling animal which we took for a lynx. 
There were also kiangs, which seemed very unconcerned. 
North-west, north, and north-east huge snowy mountains 
were seen from the Takbur-la (16.621 feet), of which Ryder 
and Wood had taken lx?arings. Like those Englishmen, I con- 
sidered it certain that these peaks lay on the watershed of the 
Tsangpo, and belonged to the crest of the Trans-Himalaya. 
I had afterwards an opjiortunity of proving that this was a 
mistake. From the pass a river runs down to join the Sachu- 
tsangpo. Here we saw a numlxr of yaks in the luxu- 
riant grass, and a nearly tame kulan kept them company. 


L ^ 

I Mi 





W'luri' tilt' livrr cnicf • into flir S;ik,i pl.tiii, wc 
|i;i->ii| on il> lift -iili i.\ii .i l.i>t >rii.ill -pur "I ifu- 
muiint.iiii on which the jia-^^ i> sjiuiitid, ;ini| luri- I rrstnl 
for an hour with KolKrI. to draw a p.iiiorama of the 
inlt rcNtitiu (ouiitry. 'l-iriii^' inarilml on with lli■^ nun, 
aivl (|i-a|)|i(att<l a-« a sjR.kon thr ;,'riat plain. 'I'o the la^t 
north ta-<l the white liou^es of S; ka <l/onj,' (ouM \k- mth 
in the di^t.uKe. and with the yM^-- ue cnuld make out the 
lami), two lilaik tents and a whiti', the latter Muhanied 

'I"hen We, t(M), |)asse(l a( Toss the plain. ( )n tlu' li'ft 
stood four tents, where the sheep were heini,' driven into 
the {"old for the ni^ht. At oiu- plaie the road divides; 
travellers who have nothing; to do in Sakadzonj.; take the 
southern road. We ( ross the Sa i hu river and thi' over- 
flow of a spring; there is a stronj,' wind from the west, and 
we lon^ for the tents, and the warmth of the i amp tires. 
At last we are there. (lulTaru comes to ^'reet us, and all 
the others call out to Us "Salaam" and "Ju." I l(K)k in 
vain for Muhanied Isa's stalwart fif,'ure, and inf|uire for 
him. "He is lyin<; in Ud and has Ixen ill all day," they 
answer. I supjxjse that he has his usual headache again, 
go to the brazier in my tent, and let RoUrt, as usual, 
unjjack the things I recjuirt' for my evening work. We 
were tired and chilled through and hjnged for our S)Upper. 




We had not been sitting,' long when Rabsang came to say 
that Muhamed Isii had lost consciousness, and did not an- 
swer wlien he was si)oken to. I now perceived that he had 
had an apoplectic fit, and hurrietl olT with Robert tr his tent, 
which stotxl close Ix'side mine. An oil lamp was burmng 
beside the iiead of his bed, where his brotlier IVering sat 
weeping. The sick man lay on his back, tall, strong, and 
straight. The mouth was a little drawn on the left side, 
and the pupil of the left eye seemed very small, -hile that 
of the right eve was normal. The pulse was regular and 
strong, beating 72. I at once ordered hot Ixjttles to be 
laid at his feet and a bag of ice on his head. His clothes 
were loosened; he breathed deeply and regularly. I he 
eyes were half open, but were lustreless. I called his 
name loudlv, but he gave little sign; he tried to turn his 
head and move his right arm, uttered a low groan, and 
then remained still again. Robert was shocked when I 
told him that Muhamed Isa would not see the sun rise 

again. , , t • • 1 u 

While we were sitting beside his bed I inquired the 
circumstances from Rehim Ali and Guffaru. who had Ix-en 
with him all dav long. During the four days they had 
waiteil for us here he had Ix'en quite well, and had never 
complained of headache. He had tried, in accordance 
with the last instructions I had given him at the camp in 
the Basang vallev, to win the friendship and confidence 
of the :!'.!t'.orities. The dav before he had been still in 
excellent spirits, had drunk tea with his most intimate 





friends in the caravan, and hacl sung to the accompaniment 
of the guitar. 

On this day, June i, he had got up with the sun, drunk 
tea, and had had a stormy interview with two Tibetans 
from the dzong. They had refused to supply the caravan 
with ])r()visions, and then insisted that the caravan should 
leave the i)Iace at once. He had answered that the 
Sahib would soon Ix- back, and that it would go baflly 
with them if they did not olx'y him. They had gone 
away in anger, and then Muhamed Isa had breakfaste-d 
alx)ut ten o'clfK.k, and hari slept an hour. When he rose, 
he had complained of headache. 

When the sun had reached its noonday height he had 
gone to look out for us. and had then had a violent attack 
of sickness, fallen on his left side and lain senseless. 
The other men hurried up, carried him to his tent, and 
massaged his body. Jle was restored thereby to con- 
sciousness, and spoke much but indistinctly, and chiefly 
with the god of Islam : 

"I was a Lamaist but went over to Islam; help me 
now, O Ahah, out of this severe illness; let me recover; 
forgive me my sins and all the wrong I have done to 
others; let me live, C) Allah, and I will always keep 
thy commandments and will never omit my prayers." 

Then he had admonished the others to do their duty 
as heretofore, and thanked them that they had so patiently 
assisted him in his misfortune. Now and then he had 
asked for cold water. He had felt his left arm with his 
right hand, and asked whose arm it was, and had also said 
that he did not feel the shoe on his left foot. The whole 
left side was quite paralyzed. Sitting upright, and sup- 
ported by cushions, he had made the following request to 
GutTaru: "Thou, who art old, and keepest the command- 
ments of religion, wilt not pollute thy hands if thou takest 
a knife and cuttest my neck ; cut deep down to the spine, 
for ihat will relieve my infernal headache." In his fearful 
sutTering he struck his right hand against a lx)X. Alx)ut 
an hour later another stroke deprived him of speech, and 

>.ft,,i- fli.t U.. U..,l 1,. r>-„.I., „ _." _ -,-■•!- L- ,; ! ( ' ! 

duM l::ai in. n.i-.: •,;:;i;, Huiuv .1 Mgii Aiiii JUS ilgiil Uanfl, 

as though in despair at the approach of death. Towards 








four o'clock Tscring had come and thrown himself ovcr 
him \vcci)ing loudlv. Muhamcd Isa had also wept, and 
pointed to his lips' to intim:ite that he could not speak. 
When wc entered his tent about five o'clock his conscious- 
ness was almost gone. He remained in the same condition 
for an hour and a half, breathing quietly, with his mouth 
closed. I went therefore to my dinner, which Adul had 

'"^^RoUTt'^'and I studied Burroughs and Wellcome's 
medical handbook, to see that nothing had been omitted. 
About eight o'clock we returne<l to the sick-bed. Mu- 
hamed Isa was now breathing with his mouth open - a bad 
sign, showing that the muscles of the jaws were relaxed; 
the pulse beat 108, and was very weak. The despair of 
old Tsering when I told him all hope was gone, was 
heart-rending. Half an hour later the braithing became 
slower and weaker, and about nine o'clock the ^Icath-rattle 
commenced, and the struggle of the muscles o the chest 
to supply the lungs with sufiicient air. Atout every 
fortieth respiration was deep, and then there was a 
pause before the next came. They were f^Ho^ved by 
moans. His feet grew cold in sf.ite of the hot littles, 
which were freciuently changed. At a fiuarter-past nine 
the breathing became still slower and the intervals longer. 
A death spasm shook his body and slightly raised his 
shouklers; it was followed by another. ,u , h. 

The Mohammedans whispered to Tsering that he 
should leave his place at the head, for a ^Jf ^"J";^ l'" 
must hold the lower jaw and close the mouth after the 
last breath. But the sorrowing brother could on y Dc 
brought to leave his place by force. A third and las 
spasm shook the <lying man, pr.Kluced bv the cold of 
death. After a <leep respiration he lay still Or 20 seconds^ 
We thought that life ha<l flown, but he breathe, again, and 
after another minute came the last feeble breath, and then 
old (kitTaru l)Ound a cloth under the cmn and covered the 
lace with a white kerchief. Then all was still, and deep y 
..nvorl 1 bared mv hea<l before the awful majest> of Dcath^ 

Horrified and' .lisma; '.l. the Mohammedans poured 

into the tent, and the Lamaists after them, and I heard 









them from time to time call out in low tones, "La illaha 
il Allah:" Tsering was beside himself: he knelt by the 
(lead, beat his forehead with his hands, svcpt aloud, nay. 
howled and bellowed, while large tears rolled down his 
furrowed sunburnt face. I patted him on the shoulder, 
and Ix-gged him to try and compose himself, go into his 
tent, drink tea. and lie down and rest. Hut he neither 
heard nor saw, and the others had to carry him to his tent, 
and T heard him wailing in the night as long as I lay awake. 
Ye.'- '.eath is an awful guc.^^t. We could hardly realize 
that he had so suddenly entered our peaceful camp. 

I had a long conversation with RolxTt in my tent, and 
old CkitTaru was sent for to receive my orders for the 
funeral. The Mohammedans were to watch in turn 
lx>side the Ixxly through the night. Early next morning 
the i)ermission ' of the authorities would be obtained for 
the choice of a burying-place, and then the interment 
would take j)lace. 

At midnight I paid a last visit to my excellent, faithful 
caravan leader, who had fallen at his in the prime of 
life. He lay long and straight, swathed in a shroud and a 
frieze rug, in the middle of his tent. At his head burned 
his oil lamp, slightly flickering in the draught. The dead 
watch of five men sat mute and motionless, but rose when 
I entered. We uncovered his face; it was calm and 
dignified, and a slight smile played round the lips; the 
colour was pale, but slightly bronzed from the effect of 
wind and sun (Illustration 217). Arched over him was 
the half-dark bell of the tent — the tent which had fluttered 
in all the winds of heaven on the way through the Chang- 
tang, and from which Muhamed Isa s merry jests had 
s<^) often been heard in (\uk\ cold Tilx^tan nights 
the sound of flutes and guitars. Xow depressing silence 
reigned around; only the stars s))arkled with electric 

How empty and dreary everything -eemed when I 
woke on Sunday, June 2, the day of Muhamed Isa's 
funeral! I went out and looked at the grave; it lay 

.1 ..* -_- -...—.I. *— *l» .,,»l-. .i..^.^. *■ -,f fK^. ".• ».v^ » . ' PK. » 

;ii;t;ul .S^'-J tillOD lU lUU :50Ui;!-v. v..-;i VI Ul\. -..^iiiip. 1 ;:!- 

Mohammedans had been early in the village to Ix^rrow 





a door, and had washed the b)dy on it. Then they had 
\vrai)i>e(l it in (iuffaru's shroud, which was of thin Hnen, 
hut <iuitc white and clean. Muhamed Isii and I had often 
hiuf,'hc(l together over the old man's singular fancy of 
taking this death garment on the journey. Over the 
shroud (kaj(Ui) they had wrapped a grey frieze rug. The 
lj(Kly lay now in the bright sunshine before the tent, on a 
bier' consisting of the bottom of the two halves of the boat 
fastened together, and provided with four cross-poles for 
the bearers. 

When all was ready the eight Mohammedans raised 
the bier on to their shoulders, and carried their chieftain 
and leader, royally tall, straight and cold, to liis last 
re.sting-place. I walked immediately behind the bier, and 
then came Robert and some Lamaists; the rest were 
occupied at the grave, and only two remained in the camp, 
which could not be left unguarded. From T.sering's tent 
a despairing wailing could still be heard. He had been 
persuaded not to come to the grave. He was heart and 
soul a, and now he was troubled at the thought 
that he would never .see his brother again, who had looked 
forward to the paradise of the Mohammedans. Some 
Tibetans .stood at a distance. Slowly, solemnly, and 
mournfully the proce.s.sion set itself in motion (Illustration 
218). Xo ringing of bells, no strewn fir branches, no 
chants spoke of an awakening beyond the valley of the 
shadow of death. But above us the turquoise-blue sky 
stretched its vault, and around us the lofty, desolate 
mountains held watch. In deep mournful voice the 
bearers sang, "La illaha il Allah," in time with their 
heavy steps. They staggered under their burden, and 
had to change it frequently to the other shoulder, for 
Muhamed Isa was big, corpulent, and heavy. 

At length we ascended a gravel terrace between two 
soui'xc streams. The bier was placed at the edge of the 
<Trave, which was not quite ready (Illustrations 219. 220, 
22O.' It was deep, lav north and south, and had a cutting 
^.l ,^j,-l^,. -sn the left side, under which the Ixxly was to be 
laid', so that the earth might not press on it when the 
grave was filled in. Four men stood in the grave and 



I I V I V \ I I'l-I l( 1 -.vll (\^ 




; Ob. -i -.Sfei** 




m-i-ivc(l the IkhIv, ami i)lacf(l it. Nvrapiu"! only in \hv 
white shroud, utiilcr tlu- anh. arran.i^in.^ it so that tlic 
fate was tunud towards Mirca. wlurv the hopi-s of .ill 
true hdii'viiig j-ilj^^rims an- rcnlml. 

Scarcfly was all set in order when a painful incident 
occurred, an evil omen: the overhanj^inK vault of loose, 
d.y gravel fell in, buryinj^ the corpse completely, and 
j)arlly coverinj; the four men. There was silence, and 
the men looked at one another irresolute. Shukkur .Mi 
broke the ()pi)re.ssive silence, jumped into the ^'r^ve, out 
of which the others clambered, di^Kt-'d '>ut the body aj^am, 
and removed the gravel from the shroud as well as he 
could. A wall was then erected of s<k1s cut from the bank 
of the brook .so as to protect the Ixnly. the outer space was 
filled in with sand and stones, and finally a mound a yard 
hi.^'h was thrown up over the grave, two st(jne slabs being 
placed at the head and foot. 

When all was done the Lamaists went home, but the 

Mohammedans remained at the grave to pray for the 

deceased, sometimes kneeling, sometimes standing up 

with their i)alms before their face. Shukkur AH, who had 

been Muhamed Isa's <jld friend and comrade on many of 

his journeys in A.sia. l)roke out int<> violent weeping and 

wailing, but the others mourned more ((uietly. Finally, I 

said a few words in Turki. During all my journeys I had 

never had a more etlicient, exj)erienced. and faithful caravan 

leader; he had maintained discipline in the caravan,^ been 

a father to the men, and taken the best care (jf the animals; 

he had been an excellent interpreter, and had treated the 

natives with prudence and tact. Hy his happy humorous 

disposition he had kept all the others in gocxl temper. In 

ditVicult situations he had always found the right wav out. 

In unknown country he had climbed j)asses .ind summits to 

look for the best route — he had always gone him.self and 

not sent others. His memory would always be cherished 

and honoured among us, and he had also earned a great 

name in the exploration of Asia, for during thirty years he 

had served many other Sahibs as faithfully and honestly as 


We went silently home after our day's work. 

-^- -.aii?-'. 




In llu lc(ii(>ii:iry of thi^^ Sundiiy fMdirrcd the HiMc tixi, 
"Thou fool, tlii> ni^ht tliy m»u1 s1i;iI1 lie rc((iiirc(l of tlicc." 

Miiliaiiicd Imi liad li-av(lli-(| far. and was highly 
rcspcc ted in \>ia. He had hern in Saka-dzonj^ Ijcfort-, 
in tlic year igo), as Ka\vlinf,''s and Kydrr's caravan k-adrr. 
Ik- iittlf thiiii^'hl then tiial he would rrlurn once more, 
and here set up his tent for the hisl time after his long 
wanderings. In Thr (iroi^riip/iiatl Journiil of April 1909, 
p. 422, Rawling refers t(» him as follows: — 

Having minlioned Saka D/.orif,'. let me break otT one moment 
to pay a token of respect to the memory of that faithful servant of 
Sven Fledin who (Hed lure. Mohamed Isa was one of the fmest 
character^ it has been my fortune to he thrown with. Tru>t- 
worthy and indomitaljli- in his work, his knowledge of .Asia was 
uncijualled by any native, for he had accompanied Vounuhusband 
in his famous journey from China, he was witli Carey, with Dal- 
glei>h who was afterwards murdered, and with Dutreuil de Rhins, 
when he was a heljiless witness of his master's violent death at the 
hands of the Tibetans. He acted as my caravan bashi in the Gartok 
ex[ieilition, acc(>m|)anie(l Sven Hedin during his recent Journey, and 
died, after thirty years of faithful service, at this desolate sjKJt. 

From letters I subsequently received from Voung- 
husband, O'Connor, and Ryder, I learned that they also 
deeply mourned his loss. 

The grave terrace rose close to the great high-road 
between Ladak and Lhasa on its northern side. The 
mound was next day covered with cut sods arranged in 
steps, and a .small flagstone was set in the ground at the 
head of the grave, whereon ])assing Mohammedans could 
spread out a carjK't and pray fcjr the repose of the 
deceased. On a slab of slate, smoothed down with a 
chisel, I .scratched the following inscription in English 
and in Roman letters: 




R.\WI.1.\G, RVI)1:R .\\\i OTHERS 


!\- THK ^FR'.irK OF syEN' flEPlN 

AT SAK.\-I)Z().\<;. (JN jrXE I. 1907 




I « ) 

;n). ;.'D, ;ji. 1 iih lsrhK\ih\i ot MiiiwiKU Isa. 





The writinp was thin rut in \hv stone hy Islam Ahun. 
The name was aUo t-nj^ravid in Arahir, and at the toj) the 
furmiil.i. "()ni niani i)a<lnu- huni," in Tilntan t haraitiTs, 
tliat thf iHupli' of thi' (oiintry niij^lit remind the ^ravc. 
Fuluri- travillrrs will tind the stone in it^ jilaic if the 
Tibetans have not taken it away. 

In the afternoon of June t, I sent for 'I'M-rin^ to my 
tent. He was now i.tlin .md resij^'iu-d. lie was to he 
my cook an<l Inwly servant as hefore, hut hi> |)ay would 
Ik' raised to 20 rupees a month, and this rise was to 
date l)a(k to our de|>arturt' from He was allowed to 
keej) the wateh I had k'^'^"" '" '^'^ hrother. CiUlTaru. tin- 
oldest of the men, was Muhamed Isa's sucee.ssor as 
(aravan hashi, received the same increase of |)ay as 
Tserin^, and was allowed to Use Muhamed Isa's fjrey 
horse and saddle. In future he would live with two 
other men in the tent of the deceased. 

As I foresaw that the discipline would not lx> what 
it was in Muhamed Isa's time, I spoke seriously to the 
men, tellinj,' them that they must olny GufTaru as blindly 
as they had his predecessor, that they ought to hold 
toj^ether as before and continue to serve me faithfully. 
If any oiu Inj^an to fjuarrel and was disoU'dient, he would 
at once Ik- handed the pay due to him and be sent ofT to 
go where he liked. \ow that we travelled with hired yaks 
I could very well spare half the men, and therefore it was 
their interest to conduct themselves so that they might l)e 
retained. Rabsang and Xamgyal answered in the name 
of all, that they would hold together, serve me faithfully, 
and follow mc anywhere. 

Then Rolxrt was commissioned to look through the 
property of the deceased in the presence of Tsering 
(}uffaru, Shukkur Ali, Rehim Ali, and the Hajji, and 
after he had made an inventory, to pack it in separate 
lx)xes, which were ultimately to Ix.' delivered to his wife 
in Leh, together with his outstanding ])ay. Among his 
things were some articles of value which he had bought 
in Shigatse — carr 's, tea-cups with metal saucers and 
(Dvers, ornaments, and woven materials. He had left 
behind only 10 rupees in ready money, a proof that he 



'-'* ~:^<.< -^y 





had l)ecn thoroughly honest in his management of the 
business (A the caravan. 

After all relating to the interment had been carried 
out. the Mohammedans came to ask for a few rupees to 
enable them to hold a memorial feast in the evening in 
honour of the deceased. They would make a pudding, 
called hiilv'i, of flour, butter, and sugar, drink tea, and kill 
a sheep. The heathen also, as the Mohammedans called 
their Lamaist comrades, were to be present. They sang, 
aie, :'nd drank, and i)robably hardly thought of the 


Two gentlemen from the dzong had Ixen with me on 
June 2. The Governor himself was absent, travelling 
in his province to number the tents under his administra- 
tion and to draw uj) a list of all the inhabited valleys — 
all bv order of the Chinese. Pemba Tsering. the second 
in command, was very agreeable and polite, but regretted 
that he could not supply us with jirovisions any longer, 
as he must be prepared to furnish necessaries to the men 
who were constantlv passing to and fro betVvcen Gartok and 
Lhasa. To confirm his words he called up the tive Govas 
or district inspectors of the country, who declared that the 
])oor countrv could not su[){)ly all the tsamha and barley 
we retiuired. I intimated to them that we should still 
remain a few days awaiting the answer from Lhasa; then 
they rose, protesting that I might stay here as long as 
I liked, but that they woukl not jjrovide me with provisions. 
On the same day a large white-and-blue tent was 
set UJ) by our camp, 'but it was not till June 4 that the 
occupants, the Govas of Tradum and Nyuku, paid me a 
visit. Thev had heard of our long stay, and wished to 
find out tile state of alTairs for themselves. The Nyuku 
Gova began the conversation. 

"Saka and Tratlum are put down on your passport, 
l)ut not Xvuku. Shouhl you. nevertheless, go thither, 
1 will allow' vou to stay one night, but not longer, for it 
is slated in the ])assport that you must travel straight to 

"My dear friend." I replied, "when once I am in your 
place we shall become such g(jod friends that you will 




ask mc to stay a whole month to consolidate our friend- 
ship. Should you afterwards visit me in India, your 
visit will be the more agreeable the longer it lasts." 

He nodded with a roguish smile, and no doubt con- 
sidered me a wag. but added that he must obey the 
orders he had received from the Devashung. 

"When I a"i in corresjjondence with the Mandarins 
in Lhasa, and am waiting for their answer, the Devashung 
has no right to interfere." 

"Very well, then it will be best for you to remain here 
and not come to Tratlum or Nyuku; provisions are sti'! 
scarcer there." 

.•\fterwards Pemba Tsering came again, bringing two 
sacks of barley and a sheep. He had become much more 
comi)liant since he had talked with the other otTicials, and 
promised he would try to procure what we needed. We 
had still two poor horses and a mule from Shigatse, and 
he was to have one of the animals as a reward. After 
some consideration h; chose the mule. The two horses 
we sold for a mere tritle to a stranger. 

Now we longed to get away from this miseraljle 
Sal:a-dzong and its sad associations. Out in God's open, 
glorious Nature the winds blow away sorrow. We daily 
calculated, Robert and I, how long it would be before 
'runduj) Sonam and Tashi returned. If the answer were 
sent by the so-calletl Chinese flying p.;.t, it might arrive 
any moment. But the days passed and there was no 
news. One day some horsemen rode past our camp on 
the way lo the west, and re[)orte(l that they had seen my 
two messengers in Kung (}ushuk's garden in Shigatse, 
but they knew ncjthing of their further intentions. 
"Patience," whispered the west wind again. In the maze 
of difhculties in which we became ever m<jre involved, 
my hopes rested on the answer of the Chinamen. I had 
toid the oflkials here that I would set oil at once if they 
would allow u-i to take a more northern route to Xyuku, 
but, as they would not hear of it, we remained where 


we were. 

When I looked out of my tent mv 
to the dark grave on its hil 

It seemed as if the urave 




If I 

luld u., fast, though \vc longed to get away from it. All 
was dreary and dismal; wc miss( 1 Muhamed Isa, and his 
absence caused a great blank, but life gcjes on as usual. 
When the sun ri>cs, the women of the village stroll 
abcjut collecting dung into baskets, while the men drive 
the yaks and horse to pasture. They sing and whistle, 
children scream and dogs hark. Blue smoke rises from 
the chimneys of the village or from the black tents stand- 
ing within' walls among the houses. From the roof of 
the Saka-gomi)a with a statue of Padma Sambhava the 
single lama of the monastery blows his conch. Ravens 
and bluish grey pigeons jjick up all kinds of morsels 
among the tents, and the wolves which have come down 
in the night retire again to the mountains. Riders and 
caravans pass ..istwards to a better land, where poplars, 
willoNVs, and fruit trees are clothed in their fmest summer 
dress. But we arc prisoners in this desolate country, with 
Muhamed Isa's grave as a focus. 

1 soon perceived what a depressing elTect the loss of 
the big i)owerful caravan leader had on my men: they 
became home-sick. They talked of the warmth of their 
own firesides, and they took to crocheting and knotting 
shoes for their children and acquaintances. They gathered 
round the evening fire and talked of the jjleasant life in 
the villages of Ladak. Robert remarkt^d how dreary and 
disagreeable Tibet was, and how warm and delightful it 
was in India; he was pining for his mother and his 
young wife. I should like to know whether any one was 
more eager to be (jff than myself, who had so much before 
me which must be accomplished. Yes, I saw only too 
plainly that I could not achieve all I was striving for with 
mv i)resent caravan; it was worn out and used up, which 
wa> reallv not to be wondered at after all it had gone 
through. My fate was driving me back to Ladak. But 
I must endeavour to make the most of my chances on the 
way. And then? All was dark to me. But I knew 
that 1 would never give in, and would not leave Tibet 
till I had done all that lay in my power to conquer the 
unknown land on the north of liie upper Brahmaputra. 

On the morning of the 5th .ame our old friend the 




Gova of Raf,'a-tasam. He had heard that we were in 
diiricnilties. and oftVmi to speak a go(«l word on our Ix'half 
to IVmha Tserinf^. Afterwards the two came to my tent 
and informed me that I might take the northern route 
to Xvuku. The Gova received one of our best horses 
for his trouble. Now we had six kft of our own horses, 
among them three veterans from Leh, two i^her horses, 
and a muk-. Next evening (iutTaru came for the first 
time to receive instructions, and on June 7 we set out 

i stopped a moment at the grave. It was striking and 
imposing in all its simplicity. In its dark chamber the 
weary one slumlx-rs till the end of time. He listens to 
the howling of the western storms and the wolves, he 
freezes in the cold of winter, but he does not see the 
summer sun, and with longing for the well-remembered 
past he hears the horses stamping on the hard pebbles. 
1 thought of the Lama Rinpoche in his dark den at 

Farewell and grateful thanks ! 



The day was }>rilli;tnt ; it was not spring, it was summer. 
Flics, wasps, and gadllics buzzed in th<; air, and worms of 
all kinds crept out of the ground to enjoy the warm season, 
all too short here. It was hot, 70.2° at one o'clock. The 
sun seemed to Ix' as scorching as in India. The Sa-chu 
valley widens out westwards; wikl-geese, heroi nd 

ducks sit on the banks of the river, and choughs c . on 
the mountain which we skirt on the right side of the 
valley. The fresh grass has sprouted out of the earth in 
its green summer garl). but it will not really thrive till 
after the warm rains. We meet a caravan of 200 yaks in 
five sections, each with two wliistling drivers. 

"Whence have you come?" I ask. 

"From Tabie-tsaka, where we have been to fetch salt." 

"Where does the lake lie?" 

"To the north, in Bongba, thirty davs' journey from 

"Does the road cross over high passes?" 

"Yes, there is a higli pass twelve days to the north." 

And then they passctl on with their light-stepjiing 
yaks towards Saka dzong. It was the first time I had 
heard this important lake mentioned, and I envied the 
men of the salt caravan who had traversed this way 
through the Trans-Himalaya quite unknown to Europeans. 

We l<.ft the tasavi on our left; we turned asid<' north- 
westwards straight to the Targyaling-gompa standing 
with it-^ red Ihakanv., its small white buiklings. and its 
large chhortcu on a terrace immediately above the spot 



it^mmm^mm^mi. ..m^-^m 




where GufTaru has pitched the camp. Twenty lamas came 
down to find out whether we were thieves and roblxrs 
who intended to attack the convent. "Certainly not," 
GiilTaru answered, "we are peaceful travellers passing 
the night here." "We will not allow it," they replied; 
"you must remain on the high-road." T now sent Rahsang 
up, and he was surrounded at the gate by thirty monks. He 
was told the same; a !:^uropean had never been here, and 
none should e\er enter the monastery. If the gentlemen 
of the dzong attempted to get us in, they should pay the 
penalty with their lives. Charming ecclesuistics ! Even 
Kabsang, who was a Lamaist and wore several gaos on his 
neck, was not allowed in. lie was in the service of a 
European. So inimically disposal were these monks that 
they stopped up the channel wc drew our water from. 
The Devashung, they said, had nothing to do with them. 
We had heard in Saka-dzong that these monks v.ere 
kllicosc and independent; there they had said that the 
free-Ix)oter who had stop[)ed us on May 31 must have 
ixen a disguised monk. But we could do without them 
and their monastery, which seemed small and unimportant. 

Here our four pujjpies fell ill of a peculiar complaint: 
they ran alxjut restlessly, snuffed and sneezed, had matter 
in their eyes, and no ajjpetitc. At night I heard one of 
my tent companions whine and howl, and next morning he 
lay dead on his rug. 

Leaving Rawling's and Ryder's route to the left, wc 
proceeded to the bank of the Chaktak-tsangpo and then 
northwards along the river. It has a swift current, but 
does not form rapids; to the south is seen the portal 
through which it emerges from the mountains. At the 
village Pasa-guk, which is larger than Saka-dzong, wc 
bivouacked on the right bank. The river here was 141 
feet broad, 2 feet 7 inches deep at most, and carried 629 
cubic feet of water. On May 28 it carried 664 cubic feet, 
but it receives the Sa chu and other tributaries below the 
village Pasa-guk. 

In the middle of the village is a serai with a large store 
oi sail ii! nags. Here a market i> heid fiuiii lime lo lime, 
salt Ixing the medium of exchange. I tried to obtain 

VOL. II f 





further information alKUit the country in the north, but 
when F comijarcd the (lirfcTcnt (hita to^'t-thiT, the result 
was a hopeless muddle. For instance, I asked travellers 
who came from Talue-tsaka. how far they marched each 
(lav, and where they passed lakes, rivers, and i)asses; and 
when I added the distances toother and laid down tiie 
direction on the map, the line reached to Ka>h',Mr, all 
through Tibet and Kastern Turkestan I ft was impossit)le 
to obtain useful data about the country to the north. I must 
see it with mv own eyes. Hut how would that be possible? 

The fbijji came to me, angry and excited, to complain 
thiit (iuffaru had struck him. I sat in judgment and 
heard evidence. The Hajji had refused to watch the 
horses when his turn came, and the caravan Ixishi had 
therefore thrashed him. The sentence was, that the Hajji 
should receive his discharge in Xyuku. 

Robert and I sat on the velvety grass on the bank and 
gazed with lf)nging eyes at the half-clear water (lancing 
merrilv on to its destination at the coast. An old man 
and a youth joined us. and entertained us with dance and 
song. The old man danced and stamped on the ground 
in a three-cornered mask of goat leather with red strips 
and bells, and the youth sang this unintelligible song: 

Hail, O God, god of the past! 

Many stars sparkle in ihf night. 

To-day is a tine day. 

Wi>ul(l that rain might come! 

(live me a bit of tea or a small coin. 

O, Cook, give me a pinch of meal and a radish. 

Such is the mask that is worn in the Chang-tang. 

At tile right ear a curl, neither l.irge nor small, 

At the left a pin, neither large nor small; 

Neither shade nor sun. 

There is a father's pin and a mother's pin. 

Ever\'wliere we have pins with branches, 

For they guard us from all dangers. 

The horse holds his head high. 

And t!ie rider holds his head high. 

The gods are high, the earth is low. 

You have gold and silver galore. 

Mav your cattle multiply, your fliKks and your property increase! 

M.iv vo\ir family increase! 

The King of I.ailak sits between a golden and a silver king. 

Now is the song ended. 




On Jiinr tlir lotli I left tli.' Cliaktak (san^'po to thf 
ri^^hl, untortuiiatcly witliniit liavinj,' Icariit wluria- it 
(oims. \\\- amended a >i(!i- valkv naninl Rock, in a 
north-wcstiTly direction. WV lia.i prcviouslv passi-d two 
to\VLr> which had fornurly Ixrn the fort ()f a rcbflhous 
lama. Ik- was at tVud with Saka-d/,on<;, l)Ut was dt-fiatc-d. 
In the- camp at the po. 1 C'huru the evening seemed to 
me fearfully long. Hor.e-sickness had Ixccmie infectious. 
Ihe J.adakis san-,' no more, liut made shoes for their 
children, and thereby turned their thou<;hts more intently 
to their home. I too found no rest after the dav's work. 
If we only knew what answer the Mandarins would send, 
but our messenger did not return. We seemed to have 
stumbled into a morass and to be stamping in it without 
moving on. Oh, thou drearv, awful I'ikl, thou ])laek, 
poor superstitious folk! In the stillness of the night the 
step of the camp watchman was i)leasant company. 

Alter a night temperature of 14.4° we nnle "on west- 
wards over a very Hat pass, a watershed between the 
Chaktak-tsangpo and Xyuku. along a road which had 
once Wen a tasam ; numerous ruins and vumis were 
memorials of that time. The district was thicklv peopled 
by nomads, and black tents were often seen where sheep 
hieatc-d and dogs barked; women and bovs guarded the 
Hocks, and yaks grazed on the sloi)es. Tlie countrv calls 
to mind the summer pastures on the Pamir. A second 
puppy died in the night, and was almost eaten up by ravens 
Ix'forc morning. 

On June 12 we came again to the tasam at Xyuku 
where we set up our camp. The Gova of Xvuku, whose 
friendship I had gained at Saka-dzong, was verv obliging 
and said that I was cjuite at lilxrtv to make ancHhei^ 
detour to the north, as I seemed to (lislike the high-road. 
It would take me up to a pass, where almost all the 
mountains of the world could i. seen, especiallv Lumlx> 
gangn immediately to the north. Here we should come 
in contact with people of the province ot Bongba, who per- 
baps wc.ulcl sell us ^ all necessaries. In Xyuku the third 
P-VP.r <Htw. Ihe iibttan> ^aid that it suffered trom a 
throat complaint called gakpa. which is very common in 




the country. Mamma Puppy gave herself no trouble alxjut 
lur lit til- ones wlun tluy were ill, liut seemed rather to 
avoid them. We washid them with warm water, and 
tended them to tin Ixst of our p(jwer, and did evirythinj,' 
wc could think of to >ave the last. 'I'hi' Tibetans could 
not understand how wc could make such a fu» alxjut a 

Hlui■^h-whitt■ flashes (|uivcre(i over the mountains all 
the evening, and their outlines sto(Kl out sharp and dark 
in the lightning. That is a sign of the setting in of the 
nKHisoon rains on the southern tlank of the Himalayas, 
and all look forward to them. When rain falls up here, 
the grass grows up in a .ouijIc of days, tlie lattle become 
fat and sleek, the milk is thick and yellow; at the j)resent 
time it is thin and white, and |)ro(luces little butter. The 
existence of the nomads, and indee<l the ])ros])erity of the 
whole country, depends on tlie monsoon. It is the summer 
pasture which helps the herds to endure the scarcity of 
the rest of the year. If the rains fail, the stock languish 
and die. 

The night is silent. Only occasionally is heard the 
hearty laugh of a girl or the bark of a dog. The camp 
watchman hums an air to keep himself awake. 

The 13th was a lazy day; we had to wait for Tundup 
Sonam and Tashi. I always shave myself on rest days 
— it is pleasant to feel clean, even when there is no one to 
smarten oneself up for. Robert shot three wild-geese, and 
caught two yellow goslings which walked into his tent and 
made hay there. We put them in the crystal clear Men- 
chu river, hoping that some kintlly goose-mamma would 
take to them. 

From here it is said to be only four days' journey to a 
district in Xe])al, where there are fir-woods. Just fancy: 
lir-wood as in Sweden and in Simla ! But we must remain 
in thi-^ dreary land. 

Just as we were starting on the following day the 
Hajji. Islam .\hun, and GalTar came to me, and demanded 
exemption from night duty and separate rations if they 
n-ere tc stay with me. I called ail the other nun together, 
and asked if any one else would join them now that they 




were to Ix.' (li-misM(l. Ikit no one wished to. Our Hajji, 
the only one of the Mohammi-dans who had Ix-en in Mecca 
— had indeed Ix-en twice there - was the only rascal in the 
caravan. He had in-tigated the others. In my experience 
Mecca j)il,<,'rims are always scoundrels. The Hajji declared 
that he |)ret\Tred rohlxTs and trani|)s on the road to (iutTaru 
and the other Ladaki-. The three men vani>lu(l from 
>ij,'ht a> we marched north westwards up the valley of the 
Men (lui. 

In canif) Xo. 177, on June 15, I held a grand reception, 
for >ome i hiefs from the direction of Hongl)a came to visit 
me, and our old friend, the Gova of Tradum, arrived. 
They decided that I niii^ht ride a short distance to the 
north, but only on condition that I came hack the same 
day. So on the 16th we rtxle on fresh hired horses U[) to 
the Kilung la. where the view was in>tructive and showed 
the lie of the land. Before u.s was the dark Luml)ogangri 
with its deep wild valleys and steep clilTs. its small j^lacier 
tongues and caps of eternal snow. The men of the district 
said that the mountain was holy, and was a kind of portal 
or forecourt to the Kangrinpoche, the celebrated pilgrim- 
age mountain near the sources of the Indus. Hehind 
Lumbo-gangri are the valley and river of the Rukyok- 
tsangpo, which llows to the Chaktak-tsangpo. It was now 
clear to me that tliese summits, of which Ix'arings were 
taken by Ryder and Wofxl, could not lie on the watershed 
of the rivers flowing to the ocean. But no one knew the 
true asj)ect of the country farther north, and the Bongba 
men had l)een ordered to stop us if we tried to force our 
way in that direction. I could not by entreaties or threats 
otjtain more than the view from ' the Kilung-la. The 
further we proceeded westwards the more of the blank 
space on the map was left behind us. That was exceed- 
ingly annoying, but my hopes were still fi.xcd on the 
Chinese letters from Lhasa. 

On the morning of the 17th all the mountains were 
lovered with snow, but the day was warm and fine as we 
nnle up to the Serchung-la. and saw to the south-west the 
r;!;rt,iernrnost crest of ilie iiliiialayas and the broad valley 
of the Brahmaputra. The valley descending from the pass 




is full of hnishworxl and drifting -^and. which is piled up in 
dunes to a lui^lit of marly 20 feet. 

AftiT an intiTotinK and suctissful march \vc came to 
the vallev jundion Daniliak ron>,'. Hut the flay was not 
yet ov( r.' \\\ hi ard that Nastr Shah's son had arrived 
the day l)efore at Traduni on h'\^ way to La<lak"with twenty- 
two mules. A mi'sseni,'ir was therefore de'-p.itt he<l to a^k 
him to wait for u>, and give u> tiilings of 'I'undup Sonam 
and Ta-hi. The (Jova of Tradum a!>o nnle home to get 
all in order against our arrival. A short time pa-<i'd hy. and 
then a horseman came up at a smart trot from llu- Sin hung 
vallev. He had evidently followed our track; he nxle 
straight to mv tent, di-mounte<l, and handed me a letter 
witl^a large seal, hearing the words. "Imperial Chinese 
Mission. TilHt." and \hv snne in C"hinesi> characters. 

Now our fate would Ix' settled. The Ladakis crowded 
round my tint. I jurceived tliat they hoi)ed we should 
Ik- ol)lige(l to return hy the direct road t(« Ladak. They 
longed for home, and were not in-pired by the same 
interests as mvself. The ten-ion was extreme as I opened 
the letter. It was dated at Lhasa on June ;v Ji"'i ^i^*' 'x'^"" 
fourteen da\s f)n the way. It was written in faultless 
English by Ho Tsao lining, first secretary to II. E. Chang 
(Tang Darin), and ran as follows: 

Di AR Dr. Hkpin — Your letter to liis !,.^cellency Cliang dated 
the 14th "'ly was duly receivi-d. Knowing that you have arrivefi 
at Kaka t.itsang, that Devashung hindered you to [)roceed forward. 
His K.xceliency is very sorry to hear such occurrence; and he 
instructed me to write you the following: — 

That in His Kxcellency's last letter to you he wrote you to 
return l)y the way you came; and now he docs not understand 
why you' are taking another road contrary to what he wrote you, 
consi'quentlv, vou have met w ith such inconveniences, to which 
His K.xcelleniy regrets very mueh indeed. His K.xceliency has, 
now. again ordered Devashung and ollieials along the way to give 
you alT ix)s>ihle jirotection and comfort, hut he sincerely ^^ ishing 
you not to change vour direction to the N.W., ^vhere l)oth the 
country and peoiile arr wild (I wonder how he could know that), 
;m.<l that accidents might haiipen, which His K.xceliency can 
hardlv bear anv resiK)n>it)ility. 

Therefore, His K.xceliency wishes you only to return by the 
wav as vou came, not to venture in other directions. 


Tli.l 1 \N ll'iV-^ \Mi t;iK-|> III S \K \ \Mi Ir ■ M. 

>k' li 111 - I'-, ihi \iiilMr. 








Hi- KxcclltTiry ,t;ivt-. his hot rcuar,'< to you and wi-hini: you 
a liajjpy and >afi- return. — J am yours \i.ry truly. 


That wa=; all T pot by the stratagem which had cost us 
so much l(jss of time. .\ j)Ositive prohibition to proceed 
north-westwards to the land of my dreams. Xow the 
Deva^'hun}:; would issue fresh orders, and we should be 
watched more closely than ewr. Xow the iron gates 
would he closed again from the south, and the way to the 
forbidden land barred. Tang Darin was as immovable as 
the State Si'cretary for India, Lord Morley. Hut he 
stimulated my ambition, and for that I have to thank 
him. To lagin with, we seized the copy of our passport, 
which was to be transferred from (iova to (jova all along 
the road. 

But not yit had this fateful day come to a close. At 
sunset came Tunduj) .Sonam and Tashi, dusty and ragged, 
with their bundles on their backs. "\\\lcome and well 
done, 20 rupies each and new suits of ( lothes is vour 
reward. What news?" No letters, but onl\ a note from 
Ma that he had forwarded my letters to Lhasa, and sent a 
letter from (julam Kadir to .Muhamed Isa. Thev had 
reached Shigatse in eleven days, and liad rested there 
three days. Then they had set out from Tashi lunpo directly 
westwards. They made a fast and long march on the 
first day, and climbed up to the pass Ta la at sunset, where 
nine highwaymen, two with guns and the others with 
swords, fell upon them and threw them to the ground. 
The two guns were set on their rests and the barrels 
pointed to the men's heads, the seven swords were 
drawn, and one of the roI)lx'rs said: 

"If you value your lives, hand out everything of value 
you have." 

Frightenefl out of their wits, the two Ladakis begged 
them to take all ihey wanteil if they would only spare their 
li\es. The nine robbers then opened their IjundK'S and 
thoroughly plundered them, taking even their little gaos 


;i . 

-! s fsn; 


I'.r.:] iniages, as well ns their 

in silver. They were allowed to keep the clothes they 





h;ul on tluir 1)acks. By jiurc chance the robbers had over- 
looked a small i)acket of ,so trn,i^,is, which Tundup Sonam 
had put at tlie Ixak of his girdle. The robbers_ cleared 
them out in a minute, and then disappeared into the 
mountains, (^ur two defeated heroes remained weeji- 
in^' on the battle field till dark, and then they went ot7, 
very slowlv at first, turninf,' round frecjuently and fancying 
thev saw a robl)er in every shadow, but afterwards they 
fjuickened their pace almost to a run. Deadly tired, 
they crei)t under two boulders by the wayside, and next 
morning came to tliree black tents, where they <,'ot _fo(Ml, 
anfl were tokl that a lama had been roblx'd and strip])e(l 
naked on the Ta la two days lx.-fore. But now they were 
safe, and it was touching to sec how delighted they were 
to l)e with us again. They had seen Muhamed^ Isa's 
"rave, and the conversation about it reminded Tsering 
of his sorrow. 

On June t8 we travel across open country to Tradum, 
our route following the northern side of the valley, while 
the lasam runs along the southern. The ground was 
sandv. Small irritating horseflies buzz in the nostrils of 
the horses and drive them frantic. They walk with their 
noses on the grou' 1, like the wild asses, to escape the flies. 
To the right is uie Tuto-pukpa, a mountain to which 
corpses are carried on yaks from Tradum to be cut up. 
We ride between pools where wikl-geese are plentiful \yith 
their i)retty yellow goslings. At a projecting rock, cairns 
and streamer' poles are set up; the wall of rock is black, 
but all the side facing the road is painted red — "Ah, this 
is blood on Bakler's sacrificial stone." Here the village 
of Tradum can be seen, its temple and its chhorten on a 
hill. To the south-west the dark snow-crowned rampart 
of the Himalayas ajipcars, wild, grand, and precipitous. 
To the south-east lies the tasam, a light winding riband, 
and our path runs into it; it is 40 feet broad Ix-tween 
grass-grown terraces of sand; it is the great trunk-road 
of Tibet. 

We had scarcely set up our camp when the discharged 
Hajji and \\\> l^vo companions came up. and salaamed. 
But I was angry, and drove them away. I afterwards 




luanl that thev \w\)l and I was heartily sorry that I ha.l 
ln'cn i unkind. Hut it was loo latv, for they were seen 
tramp .; out wearily into ihu steppe when the shades of 

evenin;^ fell 

rhe nKjnastcry Traflum-gompa is subject to Tashi 
lunpo, and its five monks live on the pnxluce of their 
sheep and yaks, and carry on trade with Nepal. Round 
the temple are ei.t^ht chliorlrns. and in the Ihakati}!,. the hall 
of the gcxls, the immortal son of Sakya is enthroned 
Ix'tween the eleven-headed, six-armed Avalokitesvara and 
other deities. On a small hill of schist aljove the co.ivent 
is a hermit's dwelling, where there is a sj)lendid view over 
the Brahmaj)utra valley and the Tsa-chu-tsangpo as it 
emerges from the mountains. 

Here died our fourth puppy, which I had hoped to keep 
as a remembrance of Shigatse. Mamma Puppy had now 
her mat to herself, and outside the tents lay the two black 
dogs from Ngangtsc-tso. 

The Gova of Tradum was an excellent, genial ."ogue, 
anfl had a thorough contempt for the Devashun, He 
wouM not let me follow up the Tsa-chu valley, but ade 
no objection to an excursion to the Kore-la pass, two days' 
journey ofT to the south-west, and belonging to the Hima- 
lavan range which is the watershed between the G ges 
and the IJrahmai)Utra. He also let us hire six horses, and 
gave us two guides for the journey, which was to be com- 
menced on the morning of June 20. 

The first night we were to encamp at the spot where 
the Tsa-chu-tsangpo enters the upper Brahmaputra. I 
nxle south-south-west with my usual retinue over grassy 
steppe and sand-dunes. In front of us were three 
wanderers with bundles on their backs and staves in 
their hands. When wc overtook them they stopped, 
came forward, and laid their foreheads on the ground at 
mv feet. It was the Hajji and the two other men. I 
was glad of the opportunity of taking them into favour 
again. For the future they were to follow our yaks. 

The camp was pitched on the right bank of the river, 
at the foot of the hill crowned bv the ruins of the old 
Liktse monastery. Here an important trade-road crosses 




thr river and a ferry maintains roninni'iir.ition between 
the banks. 'I'iie 'I'-a c liu river liad liere leadth of T,x.h 

yards, and a di|)lli nf barely 40 inclies, we the Jirahma- 
putra was i jo yardi Ijinad by 5^ fi'et deep, aiid was much 
more imposing than fartiier down. The ab>ohite heif^iu was 
I J, 977 feet. It was not ea>y to carry the rope across the 
stream, for a >tron<^ xiulh-uist j^'ale was bhnvinj.; and the 
waves were hij^li. Robert rowed out from the ri^ht l)ank 
with the rope, and from the left some Ladakis waded out 
a;s far as they could in the shallow, slowly deepenint^ water 
to catch the end thrown to them and secure it on shore. 
When at last we had >tret( hed the rope across, it broke 
with the pressure of the v.ind and the waves, and the work 
had to l)e done af^ain. We noted a temperature of 5,3.6° 
in the air and oi 59.7'^ in the water, but the men were so 
chilled by the wind that they had to make a ^ockI t'lre. It 
also rained heavily — the lirst rain we had had since we left 
Ladak — and thunder rolled amouL; the mountains. 

For the first time the minimum temperature in the 
ni<^ht, 37.8°, was above free/.inf^'ixiint, and the morning 
was beautiful after the storm : the sky was only half 
covered with brij^ht summer clouds, not a I)reath of air 
stirred, and the surface of the river was smooth as a mirror, 
only sh'i^htly broken by slowly movint,' whirlpoi N. The ferry 
was already J^lyin;^ across with passengers and goods. The 
ferryman is paid a /<;/.!,'(; for each passage, and he crosses 
over twice in the hour. Our horses and yaks were made 
to swim over the river after they had grazed at night on 
the steppes on the left bank. 

We rale 21 A miles on the 21st, but first paid a visit to 
the little Liktse-gompa monastery, which stands on the 
inner side of the hili, and therefore has not the fine view 
obtained from the old ruined monastery on the summit. 
I'Yom its window-openings the monks could watch the 
oscillating life of the river during the various seasons of 
the year: its slow fall in spring; its rise during summer, 
when volumes of turbid water come down from melting 
snow fields and glaciers; its decline in autumn, and the 
freezing of il;c rr.\r in tlie co'il uf winier. And they 
could see the breaki ig-up of the ice in spring, and the 



1-^ it 

220. W'lw.w (ir V\i-i.;t' 2 ir:. T\V" '!"[ i'.K r w-. ■■ : 
J ^J. • ilKI. \l 1'a-, \-c;rK. 
Skfli lii-s liv ihc Aulli'ir. 

: "^ 





preat rlattirin;,' slalis dancing down the current. Rut now 
the i)r()S[H(t l)efore the eyes of the ten monks is only a 
wretched loamy valley between barren hills, for their 
convent lies apart from all roads. Liktsi'-gomi)a is a 
dei)endency of Sera, l)Ut receives no support from it, 
and possesses no herds. The profits from the ferry art' 
the only revenue of the monks. The alilx)t, Punjun 
Dun^, with a red turban and a j^rey beard, shmwd me 
the g(xls in the lluikatii^. Ikiddha, Padina Sambhava, etc. 
.\mon,i,' the usual sacrid objects on the altar were two 
human skulls converted into drinking vessels, one of 
them lined with silver. In the courtyard the holy dog 
was chained Uj). 

Then we mounted and rr)de ofT quickly. Wc perceived 
at once that thi> road is much frequented. On the steppe 
and in oj)en soft valley bottoms it is less clearly marked, 
for there every one marches where he likes; but over 
jia^-es and on spurs with hard stone the tracks converge 
from all sides, and there the road has been trfnlden down 
and worn in the course of centuries. On the small i)ass 
Tsasa-la we met a large caravan laden with barley. 

"Where have you come from?'' I ask. 

"From Mundang in the country of Lo C}a[)u." 

Mundang is marked on the English maps of Xepal. 
but who was Lo Gapu, "the King of the Southern Land"? 
It sounded so grand. 

The next pass is called Dorab-la, and from the top we 
sec the Chockar-shung-chu, a broad valley with a brook 
draining partly from the Koreda, and flowing to the 

While we arc resting, GufTaru passes with his black 
baggage-train in close order, a troop of laden yaks, whist- 
ling and singing Tibetans, and some Ladakis with our own 
horsis as a rearguard. They soon disappear in the dust 
i)f the road, two of our men resting awhile in a cleft to 
take a putT or two from their weather-worn narghiles. 
I'rom this point they march westwards to the rendezvous, 
vdiile we continue southwards. 

In the vaiiev leading u\) to \h<j Xgurkung-la a large 
?.ill caravan on the way to Xepal was encamped. The 




twelve leaders had [)iled up a fine shelter of sacks of salt 
a^'ainst the violent winrl. We then came to the very 
broad valley which ascends to the saddle of the pass vi>ible 
in the south. We nxle up for hours, though the ascent 
was not noticeable, but the wind was dead apainst us. To 
the ripht is the water-parting chain of the Himalayas w.lich 
we had Seen from Traduni. \ curious, sharj)ly outlined 
(loud, like a white torpedo, cf)vered it, and from the 
northern extremity small tleecy flakes jiarted from time to 
time and floated away. We camped near .some black tents 
in a side valley close to the extraordinarily flat pass. 



It was on June 22 that I storxl on the platform of the 
Kiirc-la pass and gave a stolen glance into Nepal, and 
trii-d to get a glim|)se of Dhaulagiri peak, 26,670 feet 
high. Hut the morning was dull, heavy clouds lay like 
l)illow^ on the earth, and nothing could Ix' seen of the 
>urrounding mountains. "We must wait till it clears," 
was the only order I could give. But just then a milk- 
Liirl came from a camp of 20 tents which was near at hand. 
The people were Xepalese subjects, but were camping on 
the Tilx'tan side. The girl said that it was only a short 
d.iv's journey to the nearest j)ermanent dwellings and 
gardens, and two days' journey to Lo Gapu's summer 

Then we thought: "We may as well rifle down the 
M)uthern side of the pass as stay up here in the wind." 
Xo sooner said than done! The tents are folded up, the 
animals larlen, wc mount and ride along the eastern side 
nf the vali up to the Kore-la, which from the Tibetan 
-ide little resemljles a pass, for to the eye the grass-grown 
nr unfruitful loose ground seems quite level. Of the 
-nowy mountains on the western side of the valley only 
tile dark base is visible; layers of clouds lie close alx)ve 
ihu earth ; one feels as though one could push one's head 
against the roof. A ruined house, where jx'rhaps a frontier 
L'uard once dwelt, a couple of long manis, and loose blocks 
"f conglomerate stand on the top. A caravan comes up 
liom Xebuk in the bottom of the valley. 

We look round in vain for the actual watershed, and 





,„„, u onlv l.v n..ti(in^ rivulet, running t..^;.tluT an,l 
, in. .HUhwanh. ll..v -. l.uht a l.r. an.l lA 
",i n 'llu- virw i. •narvil..u.. at any rate a rflul 

s wv .nountain. t., the >outli. whul, yc>tcnlay 1. mk. 
H lu lnu.l>, are. in.Kol, ol.cur..l, hut our s..llcy> 
:, plv an,l unit, into a lar;,. valley, in the <lepth. 
;\, i ;-.ra..v ,.1.4. an.l heKl. >hine .n .leep >,.r.n^ 
•nlure ami,l'the everlasting ^rey, yellow and rol 
h, -c pe. l).nvnhel..w the >un i. >hinin, an.l lxlun< u. 
skv i. clear ahove the IJrahnKq.utra valley, while 1 ere 
an,l n.un.l all the snowy mountains tloat opaciue c ouk 
Fn.m the saddle lyin^ ^vc>t ol our l-''\"'f ^' .'^'^^ 
innumerable valleys radiate out; the >urla_e of Ik Iges 
between them is nearlv level, or dips -ently to the- south 
^whil^hc valleys \ire deeply cut-in h.e.inons^^ 

the promontories at the meel.n.i; ol the val e>s are b oUn 
shor! o^. IVrhaps some of the nearest peaks . '^ «'"^ , 
In-is ri^e like islands the sea ol, tor her and 
tiKre Tretlexion from sun li^iUed hn> helds seems f. Ix^ try.n, 
to break through the veil of douds (lllustrat.;.n 233). 

We stand on the frontier between 1 lix't and Nepal. 
Behind us to the n<.rth we have the Hat. level land on the 

Southern bank of the '^ -n:n>" v''^'"\TT hdt 

.,= feet fn.m the river to the kore la, where the hei-m 

is iq^Q^feet. And from the pass there is a headlon- 

iLcc^^t'tu the Kali (iandak. an alHuent of ^^e .anj^s- 

Hv means of a canal cut thr.,u-h the kore-la the Brahma 

nutra mi^ht be turned into the Ganges. Northern India 

needs water for irrij^ation, but the gain would P^^h^ps x 

small, f..r the Brahmaputra in Assam w..uld Ix^' a. mucn 

.liminishe.l as the Ganges was mcrease<l. ^'!>^' ;^?y 

lose bv the chan-e. and a number of villages on the Kal'k woul<l be swept away A new road ^vol.W j^ 

opened for the invasion of India from the north, and there 

.e on the wh<.le it is perhaps l>est for all parties con 

cerned to leave things as they are. But the changes h 

indicated will some time come to pass without artificial aH 

, ,--1 . .,f tVip K"': G'"'i'«l>- are eatmL' back norin 
lor me teritauer, •-■i tnt rs.t,,. -»••••■ --- - _ • 

wards into the mountains much more quickly than m 


I I 




r->an>^j><) is tnxlinn it^ valky. Smv tinu' or otlur, |>«r 
li.ijo in a luindnil thoii^ainl yiar , ttu' (iaiv^ts s\>tiin 
\\ill have fXti-Milol \{> t<.ntaiK> to tlu' hank of thr rsin;,'|'o, 
,inil tlun will \k lornud a l)it'urtation uhiili, in [\w courM' 
■ >f time, will hrin,:^ alxtiit a total revolution in the |)ro|iorlion> 
"f the two river-, and tluir draina^^e aria>. 

Now wc arc in Xipal and ^o on foot ilown the 
deilivities. Here little lia> U-en done to imjjrove the 
road. ( )iea>ional!y an aukward liloek of granite ha^ Inen 
rolled away, leaving a ^a|) in the hnastwork ; in other 
re>[)etts the caravan tratlie lui> done nio>t for the road, 
wearinp^ it dovMi. It i-- ea>y and i>lea>ant to ^o down 
southwards towards den^^er air; it Ueomes warmer, and 
we l)reathe more ea>ily : tile vc'nlure increases, and flowers 
I if different colours make the ;.,'ra>s gay. We try to 
loru'ct that we must toil up all these slo|)es again; let us 
go down, down, to enjoy a summer life, if only for twenty- 
luur hour>, and forget dreary 'lilHt. .\n hour ago the wind 
tilew icy C(jld on the |>ass, and nctw we feel the >oft zephyrs 
U'ently caressing the height>. KolxTt takes in deej) 
draughts of the tejjid air and fancies he hears a whispered 
welc(jme to India; 'IVering and Ka'osang lx'Cv)me lively 
and contented, and I muse over a visit to the King of the 

Three horsemen rcxlc slowly up the ascent. 'I'wo of 
llum Were turning their prayer mills. They looked aston- 
ished. We asked whence they came and whither they 
were going. They were going to the tent village on the 
plateau. When they were told who we were, in answer 
t) their question, they dismounted and Ix'gged pardon 
for not greeting us at first. I readily forgave them, for 
I looke<l like a ragged tramp. They advi-ed us to j)ass 
the night in one of the houses of Lo Ga|)U, and invited 
us to visit them in their tent village on our way hack. 

The gradient Ix'comes less steep, and we come to an 
eX[)ansion where three valleys meet, the Kungchuk-kong, 
which we have followed, in the middle, the Pama on the 
ea.-,t, and the Damm on the west. From the Damm valley 
only comes a small gushing hrook. We pass along the 
right side of the united valley. On the same side a very 



I, vane, opens JheVa^a-uM,. ^^^^^^t:;:, 

houses and mrs. On the Ui Md ol ' ^^,,^ of 

barely 2^ furlongs broad. t|,^. ijt, pebble 

Below the side valley p"'^'^'^"? ''"Vu" „'erous caves 
bc-ds stand in V^^^^^-^f%;:^:^;tJ^TZ^n^, 
and grottoes. ^'^^'^^ '^'^S,/' ^'1""^^^^^ 
for they are connecU.l vith ^ ^ou^cs and ^^^^ 

of them. Lower ^-J^^ ^^^ of the us^al Tibetan 
among gardens 1 he 'i^^ '^"J"" ^ j decorations of 

style, White and -^ -- >;i^^ ^ ^^ .ore luxuriant 
streamer po es. / ^"/ '{(. ""rr,nucntly pass ruined walls 

hinder our advance. , | ..(jj 

The usual mams l.e alonR Ihe ro^'l- "™ f^,, Vlow 

:tr'he r a^^lT :r. '';r:,e[ih. .he n,,,., dense air. 

Vk''.! .he wind« .hrou^h .he .re.MJ ^, ^o 

S„„n .uo men apfearexl, "*"•'-■;'" "'''rf^', iha, we 

Gapu, asking for inf.;rma.,on »';«"' J^'^J^'^l^^'n^^ Tso- 
.Jc in .he distnct Is;, and .ha. tk mer .a ^^^^^^ ^^^ 

Uharki-.san8pe,^ A ydl K .e ean see^^ ,^ ^^^^^^^^^ _^^ 

'■^'Tl'-T-.f ■ '5^-, -uld Ik- reaehed by cross.nR only 

a:-Ui-ciivS. -n ■■■' -J' I _ , -, ^ iroritlcr 






was obliged to pay a visit to Ills Highness every fifth 
year. lie had 500 •subjects. The people for three days 
farther soiitli were Lamaists and spoke a Tibetan dialect, 
in which, iiowever, many Indian and Persian words were 

When one of the men had obtained all the information 
he desired, he rcnie down the valley to make his report to 
the frontier chief. Meanwhile we held a consultation. I 
had only Robert, Tsering, Ral)sarg, and l.vo Tibetans 
with me, and our funds consisted of only 24 rupees. The 
temptation was great to wander a few days more south- 
wards through the wild deep valleys of the Himalayas. 
Here, in the X;ima-shu camp, we were at a height of 12.487 
feet, and therefore 2805 feet lower than the Kore-la. 
Every day's journey southwards would bring us into a 
denser atmos|)here, and even now we were not far from 
shady coniferous wockIs. But would it be prudent to 
advance further into Xepal ? We were much puzzled, antl 
considered the matter from all sides. Our money would 
not last more than two days. Our horses bclongal to the 
Gova of Tradum, and we had agreed with him that we 
would only take a look into Nepal from the Kore-la, and 
now we had crossed the Iwundary and descendcxl into a 
land where our position was less secure than in Tibet. 
We might fall into a trap lx,'fore we were aware of it. Lo 
Gapu might arrest us and \sk for orders from Khatmandu. 
The greatest danger, houever, was that the Tibetans 
might close the frontier and render our return impossible, 
and then say that now wc had left their country we might 
not enter again. And then wc should be cut off from 
the main caravan, and all the results of my journey would 
Ix' endangered. I therefore decided to turn back early 
ne.xt morning Ix-fore Lo Gapu's men had time to come up 
and arrest us. 

The evening was fine and long, and we enjoyed it 
thoroughly under the rustling of the thickly foliaged trees. 
I felt perfectly comfortable anrl breathed freely: the heart 
had not to lalK)ur so heavily as on the Chang-tang; it 
worked for hniir< together without an effort; our feet -vere 
warm, and we slej)! as we had seldom done. For in the 

VOL. n o 





I ! 

;, i 

('lian<,' t,.n^' if one sleeps even ei{,'ht hours one does not feel 
rested" an(? refreshed on rising; one docs not derive the 
proper Ijenefit from sleei). Here we experiei.ced a 
thorouphlv comfortable feehng after our night's rest, and 
our only (lisai)poinlment came from the clouds, which con- 
cealed the summus of the Himalayas to the south and 
south south-west. Only now and then the peaks looked forth 

for a minute. . „r u i 

On June 23 wo mounted our horses agam. We riad 
hiard no word of Lo Oai)U. When the messenger had 
left us he was convinced that we should continue our way 
down the vallev, and the little potentate was perhaps now 
exiH'Cting our arrival. He might wait! We rode slowly 
up to the Kore la, left our oKl nxid to the right, and camped 
at Kung-muga. 

I was sitting at my drawing when a horseman came 
clanking uj). He held in his hand a green flag, a 
messenger's l)adge amc^ng the Chinese and Jibetans. 
I felt sure that he had some connection with strict 
measures against us, but found that he was only the 
bearer of a ])r()clamation from Lhasa to all the stations 
as far as Gartok, that horses and baggage animals should 
be supplied to two Chinamen "ho hail been despatched to 
iind me out and talk with me. and convey to me a letter 
from His Excellency, Lien Darin. They might \)c ex- 
pected anv moment. 

Midsummer Day was as dull as possible. The whole 
country was l)uried in impenetrable fog, and even the 
adjoining tents were invisible. .'\nd when it had cleared 
a little, the mountains were still concealed. We rode 
north-westwards on an excellent road, and were astonished 
at the numerous ntaiiis with their close, fine, raised in- 
scriptions on i)ur|)le and dark-green schist ;_ other prpyer 
stones had characters 1.2 or 1.6 inches high, while the 
largest characters were nearly 8 inches high, so that there 
was oiilv room for one character on each slab. Then six 
slabs wJre placed in a row to spell out the sacred formula, 
"Oni mani padme hum." On some votive stones the 
characters were red, cut out in round j>ieccs of granite wiih 
a v.hite underlayer. The largest mani was 262 feet long. 


iA--»'lj*i3U''ii-IliiW . 




Wc passed encampments \vith large herds; wild asses 
grazed along with tame yaks. All the men we met halted 
and saluted us. The (jova of 'J'radum came to meet us; 
he pulled a very solemn face, and wondered whether Lo 
Gapu would Ix; angry at our visit to Nepal. We reached 
Bando, near the small lake Tsotot-karpo, over the small 
saddle Tasangda, and found GulTaru waiting for us with 
the caravan. 

On the 25th wc made a short march up to Chikum, 
whence the Ts(Jtot-karpo is still visible. We had only 
l)ro visions for one day, but the Gova of Tradum otTered to 
jjrocure more if we would pay well for the horses we ha<l 
to hire. He had no fear, he said, of the Chinese who 
were coming; if they scolded him for allowing us to 
travel on the south bank of the Tsangpo, he would reply 
that it was easier to supply us with j)rovisions there than 
-n the north side. He had formerly been a lama in 
Tashi-gembe, but had lost his heart to a lady. To hush 
up the atTair he had startexl on a pilgrimage to Kang- 
rinpoche, but was caught and forbidden to return. Then 
lie had gradually worked his way up, and was now chief of 
Tradum, and was just as great a rascal in secular life as 
he had Ix-en in the religious life. However, he rendered 
us good service. 

The view from our elevated camp was magnificent. 
When the full moon had risen up in the sky the small lake 
shone like a silver blade. The sun had left only an after- 
glow on the western horizon, but the whole plain of the 
Brahmaputra and the mountains of Chang-tang in the 
north were clearly defined in dull clear shades, which 
left all the finer details indistinguishable. A cloud with 
l)right, silvery, white margins floated before the moon. 
A little to the right another cloud caught a reflexion of 
the sun, and showed golden margins. They were the 
angels of night and day fighting for supremacy. Soon 
night had won the victory, and now the moon cast a bright 
path over the lake, while all around was involved in a 
general mist. 

vwRn uay nan resumed u>. b'.v;ty v. c ;miu m m^ shin- 
ing air through swarms of flies, stinging gnats, and horse- 





V I 


flii's 11]) owT the Taj^Hi-hi and down the Tambak vallry. 
To llu- wist the most northerly chain of the llimahiyas 
made a ma-^nifucnt (li>i.lav, and' to the north-west hiy the 
Ijroad open valley of the Hrahmai)Utra, the river winding 
alon<,' the middle like a blue riband. This evening, too, 
the return of night called forth a brilliant i)lay of colours 
and K.neelTects. Light, restless, motionless to the eye, 
but riven bv the upper winds like old i)rayer streamers on 
a pass, the 'clouds sailed at sunset in the vault of heaven. 
The mo<in. the friend of all nocturnal wanderers and 
sleepers in the open air, illumines the surroundings of 
our tents, among which the l)lue smoke of the camp-fires 
lies like a veil over the ground. The yaks stand still as 
shadows, and now and then their teeth are heard grinding 
against the cartilaginous process of the ui)per jaw. 1 he 
'fradum (lova and his servants hum their evening prayer 
and rattle their jjraver mills. 

In the morning comes a ciuickly passing shower and 

another before noon. We notice all the signs of the sky, 

and wisli for rain as much as the Til)etans, not on our own 

account, but for the light-footed antelopes, the wild asses, 

and the mountain sheej). The clouds are blue black over 

the mountains to the south, and from them hang down 

elegantlv curved fringes and draperies heavy^vith rain. 

One can hear in imagination the drops splashing on the 

stones, and new-l:K)rn torrents rushing down the valleys. 

The trilling rain that has fallen in our neighljourhood can 

only moisten the ground for a short time. The drops 

made a i)leasant sound as they pelted on the Tradum 

Gova's umbrella and on my Curzon hat. Thunder rolled 

heavily and solemnly round about in the mountains, like 

an echo of the trum'pet of the last judgment. 

Then we cross the Xerung-tsangpo, come out into the 
great valley i^lain of the Brahmajiutra, and encamp in a 
countrv inhabited by numbers of nomads. The Gova of 
Xagor' was a tall, agreeable man. who i)rocured us tsaviba, 
chattg, and goose eggs — a pleasant change to our perpetual 
(Hot of mutton. Robert and Shukkur AH caught fish. 
The Gova told me that his parents, who belonged to 
Kham, had made a pilgrimage to the Kang-rinpochc and 

-' -i''. A ( nil' 'III \ IN .\ F r \i 

2i7. (ikia i' Ml iinKi \N \\.i\ih • 





had left their h'ttlc son Ix-hind, cither In- mistake or on 
purpose. The youngster had grown up in the tents of the 
wild nomads, and ncnv, though a stranger, had Ix-come the 
chief of the district. 

On the morning of the 28th \vc rode up to Xamla- 
gom{)a. on a rocky prominence, where the view was 
extensive and instructive. At the eastern foot of the 
projecting mountain lies the village Xamla, a few {xwr 
stone cabins, and here the river Pung chu, flowing out 
of the lake Ujam-tso, enters the jjlain. The monastery con- 
tains some images of gilded bronze, and seven monks, of 
whom one, a man of sixty-six, has lived fifty years within 
its walls. They are jjoor and have to beg, but they re- 
ceive freewill offerings from the nomads living in the 

Across a plain of cracked loamy soil, which is flooded at 
high water, we gain our camp on the liank of the Tsangpo; 
the river looks like a lake, and that this is also the case in 
late autumn is shown in Ryder's remarkably conscientiously 
drawn and accurate map. The breadth here is 973 yards 
broad, and the maximum dej)th only 2.4 feet. It may, there- 
fore, l)c easily waded, and the yak caravan marches cjuietly 
through the water. How dilTercnt it is farther east, where 
the river, hemmed in Ix-tween steep mountains, is deep 
and tumultuous ! In late summer it cannot Ix; wadeti here, 
and even a lx)at dare not venture over because of the 
treacherous, shifting sand-banks. During our measure- 
ments the Ladakis went across the river, measuring the 
breadth with poles and ropes, and held the boat still while 
I investigated the velocity of the current. When the 
work was finished, Rehim Ali Ixgan to carry Robert to 
the bank, but he slipped on the smooth, clayey lx)ttom, 
and lx)th took an involuntary bath, causing all the rest of 
us to laugh heartily. 

Xe.xt day the fragile baggage was conveyed across in 
a lx)at, and the rest on hired yaks, which tramped through 
the turbid dirty-grey water. On the northern bank we 
ride through peculiar country. Here are lakes and 
swamp»s, caused by arnis (jf llie river, and lying amid a 
collection of sandhills as much as 26 feet high. We try 




Kft — r^ 





all (lircrtions to avoid sandhills and deep creeks, and 
fre'iurnily ride straight throuijh basins with yielding 
ground; in >()me there i> a slight current, while others 
art- stagnant. Here and there i>lets of siml ri>e out oi 
tlu' V. Iter, some barren, otlurs with gra-s and stalks. It 
i-^ a thoroughly di>integr ited country, but full of pleasing 
varii ty. (Inats i)ur>ue us in regular douds. Some men 
go in front to pilot us. We often get into deep water 
and have to turn baek. The high water washes away 
the gnater part of the driftsand, and deposits it on the 
bank> of the Hrahinaputra lower down. Hut when the 
riviT falls, fresh >and aerumulates and forms new dunes. 
The driftsand therefore finds a rusting j)laee here on its 
way to the east We encamped by the last lagoon, and 
heard the fi>h(^ splashing in the water. The whole 
country reminds me of Loi), the swampv region in 
Kastern Turkestan, and the continual struggle there 
between driftsand and flowing water. The di>trict is 
named Dongbo, and here the (lova of Tuksum and other 
chiefs awaited us. The lu>t named had heard that the 
('hinamen, of whose coming we had been informed, had 
left Saka dzong and were on their way hither. He 
c.\})ected that they would arrive Ixfore evening. 

On June 7,0 we made most of our march along the 
tdsiiDi, on which Xain Sing and the English expedition 
had travelled ; for I durst not pass round Tuksum, which 
was mentioned on my passjxjrt. The greater part of the 
way runs among fine, regular, crescent-shaj)ed dunes, which 
move eastwards over the ])lain before the prevailing wind. 
They are ephemeral phenomena: they live and die, 1)Ut 
are always replaced by others. The horns of the crescent 
protrude far in the direction of the wind, and the slope is 
very steep on the windward side, as much as 17 degrees, 
while on the sheltered side it is as steep as the falling sand 
will allow. 

(laniugompa stands on an isolated hill to the wc'st (;f 
the (lanju la. It is sulx)rdinate to the Brel)ung monastery, 
and has a llmkniii^ with twelve ])illars and four rows of 
divaiis, as v.v!! .;> fwur large drums. The .statues of the 
go<ls look down with gentle smiles on the homage paid to 




-i:^F?"i-;a^ -''^iX''^"^,: Ti-f>T " 






thim by nomaris and truvclkrs. Only five monks and as 
many do^'s live in (Janju. 

The whole population of Tuksum came out to meet us 
lyfore their village. It was agreed with the (iova that 
(iulTaru and the main caravan >hould [)roceed to Sham 
sang, while I with a couple of attendants travellal hv for- 
bidden Dads on the >outh side of the river. In the 
evening a dejnitation of Ladakis came to wait on me 
with the recjuest that they should \k- ;dlowed to give a 
feast in honour of Muhamed Isa, to Ik- j.aid for out of his 
outstanding pay. But I thought this a little too cool, see- 
ing that the money belonged to the widcnv of the deceased. 
They might have a feast, however, at my own e.\i)ense, 
but there would Ix- nothing but mutton, cbaiif;, and tea. 

On the morning of July i I had another a[)plication, 
this time from five young Ix-ggar girls, ragged and black, 
with bundles in frames of wikkI on their backs, and large 
pilgrims' staves in their hands. They had lx.-en, like so 
many others, at the Kang-rinpoche, and reckoned it a 
year's journey to their home in Kham. They Ix-g their 
way from tent to tent. It must Ix a serious burden 
to the nomads to maintain the numerous pilgrims that 
pass along this road. 

We said gofxi-byc to GufTaru and his followers on 
July 2, anfl riding in a south westerly direction over the 
[)lain, set up our camp 191 on the left bank of the Brah- 
maputra, which here carried down 1978 cubic feet of water. 
\e.\t morning the baggage was taken over, and we had 
also the honour of helping over the river a high lama, 
whose acquaintance I had made in Tashi-lunpo. He wore 
a yellow robe with a red mantle, and had a small yellow 
wocxlen hat as bright as metal. His servants were armed 
with guns and swords, and tfK>k all their baggage over the 
river on yaks. But, unfortunately, the yaks got into deep 
water and Ixgan to swim, so that, of course, all their 
l)aggagc was thoroughly soaked. We also helped a 
shejjherd with some lambs over to the other side, and if 
we had waited longer we might have done a ferryman's 
work ail day with our Ixjat (Illustrations 240, 241). 

Then wc crossed over two other arms, and the total 







, I 

(li>(li;ir^c of tile nralimapiiira at tlii> [)Ia(<' proved to l)c 
^j I ; (uliii fnt. 'I'lir t'l^^iirts. however, ohtairu'd on 
f^.iu^in^ till- ri\rr mi mar it.-, sourci-, art- of infrrior 
value, i>|)e( ially uhiii ilu' iiultirif^ of the snow ha> <|uite 
set in. |)artly lHeau>e the >ouree streams rise towards 
evening,', carrying the water from thi' (hiy's thaw down 
to the main valli'y, j)artly Ix'eause the vohime of water 
(Upends to a great extent on the weather. At the lir^t 
(h»\\n|)oiir of rain the rivers are little affeetid, t'^r the 
watir is ahsorln-d by the dry soil, hut whin thi> is 
soaked throui^h. the water nins olT. and the rivers swell 
enormously after a single rainy day. When the sky is 
overea.^t without rain they fall, but in quite clear weather 
the sun thaws the snow and (ause> the rivers to rise 

It was a long day's journey, for in many of the tents 
the j)eople refused to give us the helj) we wanted, and 
therefore we passid on to the great tributary (lyang ehu, 
which (omes from the south and reii'ives many streams 
from the northernmost rangi' of the Himalayas. 

I have no time to give an account of the geogra{)hy of 
this region o i the south side of the Hrahmaputra. I will 
only say that during the following days we were cut ofT 
from the main river by low mountains, and that we did 
not encamp again on its bank till July 6, when we came 
to the Cherok district. We had left several tributaries 
behind us, and the main stream carried only 1554 cubic 
feet of water. 

After another short day's march we rejoined GuiTaru's 
party in Shamsang (15,410 feet) on the great high-road, where 
twenty one tents were now standing. The chiefs of the 
neighlK)urho(Kl were very altinfive, and did not say a word 
against my proposal to go up to Kubi-gangri, which shows 
its snowy ])eaks to the south-west, and in which the 
sources of the Hrahmaputra were said to lie. They pro- 
cured us provisions for twelve days, and we had not had 
so free a hand for some time. Here nothing had been 
heard of Chinese or Tibetan pursuers from Lhasa. 

; I 



tT--:* : i=^ 





r i 

;S. Uinii \ i\ J HI, \'n i,\i,i. lit \ 

\i.l. lih .\ Wll \. 

I. ) 

^1 f . 

^ i i 

.\M, Im1\HII\ l^uh Illl \ll I \ .1 III X \M1 \. 




Now we were already far to the west; the force of circum- 
stances had forced us to leave behind us step by step ever 
larger areas of unknown country to the north. I was 
vexed, but I would, at any rate, endeavour to do all that 
was possible in my hampered condition. At Shamsang, 
Ryder's Lahtsang, we were at the place where the actual 
sourco streams of the Brahmaputra converged from various 
(lirec: IS. I had long determined to push on to the 
unknown source, unless the Tib(;tans placed unsurmountable 
obstacles in my w.. . . 

The learned and clear-sighted Colonel Montgomerie 
had sent Xain Sing in the year 1865 up the valley of the 
upper Brahmaputra (Illustration 380). From our Sham- 
sang the Pundit crossed the Marium la, and said in his 
report that the sources of the river were certainly in the 
huge chain seen in the south, and were fed by its glaciers. 
He did not, however, go to look for the actual sources, but 
continued his journey westwards. 

The next year, 1866, Thomas Weblx-r mafic an ex- 
cursion into TilK'tan territory, and his route lay a little 
to the south of Xain Sing's. On his sketch maj) it may 
l)e seen that he crossed some of the • ■ ice streams of 
the Tsangpo, but of the tract in whi( the sources are 
situated he gives no further indication than "Snowy 
ranges unexploretl." And when he says in his text 
that here are the sourrec of th«- great Brahmaputra, 
which have their origin in the Guria glaciers, the con- 
fusion is hopeless; for the sources of the river lie 60 miles 



S^^/^'Pcs;p^v ^.i9lii*t-" 


! i 





from Gurla, a mountain which has nothing whatever to do 
with the Brahmaputra. 

The poHtical exijedilion which, under the command of 
kawhng in the elo^e of the year 1904, had (lartok for its 
destina'ion, and the chief resuU of which was the admir- 
able map of the ui)i)er Hrahmaputru valley surveyed by 
Ryder and his assistants (Map 7), travelled from Shamsang 
over the Marium la and n(jrth of the Gunchu-tso to Mana- 
Siirowar. It was therefore of the greatest importance to 
me to travel to the south of their route through country 
they had not touched on. They travelled by the same 
road as N'ain Sing, and left the source of the river at a 
distance of 40 miles to the south. From Ryder's report 
it might be supposed that he considered the ^Iarium-la to 
Ix.' the cradle of the Hrahmaputra; but in a letter I have 
recently received from him, he states that such is not the 
case, but that he always recognized that the actual source 
must lie among the mountains in the south-west, which he 
has set down on his map from bearings taken of their 
peaks. Ryder also remarks in his report that the principal 
headwaters come from there. 

Instead of entering into a ditTuse discussion of the prob- 
lem, I intnxluce in this book small sketches of the maps of 
my three ijredecessors, Xain Sing, W'eblxT, and Ryder. Xo 
other traveller had ever Ix-en in this region, and I would 
on no account miss the opportunity of penetrating to the 
actual source of the Brahmaputra and fi.xing its position 

Ihnv was this to Ijc done? At Shamsang the source 
streams meet, and below this point the united river bears 
the name Martsang-tsangpo. First of all, I must, of course, 
gauge the (|uantities of water in the source streams, and, if 
they were nearly equal, we must be content to say that the 
Brahmaputra has several sources. 

With ten men, the boat, and the necessary measuring 
apparatus, I betook myself first, on July 8, to the point on 
the southern side of the valley where two streams run 
together, the Kubi-tsangpo from the south-west and the 
Chema yundung from the west. -A short day's march 
farther wrst the Chema-yundung receives the Marium- 




chu, which comes from the Marium-la. First the unitol 
stream was gauged, and found to discharge 1554 cubic 
feet of water per second, and immediately after the 
Chema-yundung, which discharged almost 353 cubic 
feet. Subtracting this from the volume of the united 
river, we get 1201 cubic feet as the discharge of the 
Kubi-tsangpo. This river is then three and a half times 
as large as the Chema, and it should Ix? rememberet] that 
the Chema also receives the water of the Marium-chu, so 
that its 353 cubic feet represent the united volumes of 
two tributaries. 

When we encamped in the evening with the main 
caravan in the Umlx) district (15.427 feet), where the Chema- 
yundung and the Marium-chu unite, the rivers were very 
considerably swollen, and the water, which had Ix-en clear in 
the morning, had Ix-come turbid. Therefore only the two 
measurements taken at the same time were directly com- 
parable, and I will pass over all the subsequent measure- 
ments. To arrive at the source we had only to know that 
the Kubi-tsangpo is far larger than the two others, so we 
had to follow its course up into the mountains, which none 
of my predecessors had c'one. The Tibetans also said 
that the Kubi was the upper course of the Martsang- 

On July 9 we parted from GufTaru and the main cara- 
van, which was to keep to the great high-road and cross 
*he Marium-la to Tokchen, while Robert and I with three 
I.adakis and three armed Tilx-tans followed the Kubi- 
tsangpo up to its source. Our way ran west-south-west. 
Where wc crossed the Chema-yundung, a good distance 
a])ove the last delta arms of the Marium-chu, the river 
carried little more than 140 cubic feet of water, and there- 
fore the Kubi-tsangpo, flowing to cMe south-east of it, 
is here fully eight times as large. At the ford our 
Tibetans drove a peg with a white rag into the ccJge 
of the bank, and when I asked why, they answered: 
"That the river may not become tired of carrying its 
water lown the valleys." 

At Tok-jonsung, where we bivouacked among some 
black I'.nts, the Chema lfx)ked very large, but its water 





I * 






ran very slowly. The nomads of the district go up to the 
Chan^ tang in winter. I fere also we heard, as on many 
former occasions, that smallpox was raging frightfully in 
Purang, and that all the roads leading thither were closed. 
Xo country lies so high that the angel of death cannot 
reach it. 

In the night the thermometer fell to 15.4°, but we were 
at a height of 13,991 feet. The snowy mountains in front 
of us to the south-west U'came more distinct. The Chema 
river meandi red with a slow fall, anrl we left it on the 
right before we came to our camp in Sheryak. 

We ride on July ir on to the south-west in a rong 
wind, passing already porous, melting snowdrifts. Solid 
rock is not to Ix- seen, but all the detritus consists of 
granite and green schist. We follow a clearly marked 
nomad path, leading uj) to the small pass Tso-niti-kargang 
on the ridge which forms a watershed between the Chema- 
yundung and the Kubi-tsangpo. The large valley of the 
latter is below us to the south. The water of the Kubi- 
t.sangpo is very muddy, but on the right bank is a perfectly 
clear moraine lake. From the south-cast the aflluent 
Lung-yung llows out of its deeply cut valley. The view 
is grand on all sides. From north-west to 
extends a confused .sea of mountains, the crests and 
ramifications of the Trans-Himalaya, intersected by the 
northern tributaries of the upper Tsiingpo. To the south 
we have a panorama magnificent and overpowering in its 
fascinating vvildness and whiteness, an irregular chain of 
huge peaks, sharp, black, and fissured, .sometimes pointed 
like pjTamids, sometimes broad and rounded, and behind 
them we sec fim-fields from which the snow slides down 
to form glaciers among the dark rocks. Prominent in the 
south is the elevation Xgomo-dingding, and from its 
glaciers the Kubi-tsangpo derives a considerable part of 
its water. To the west-south-west lies the Dongdong, 
another mass with glaciers equilly c.xten.sive, and to the 
right of it are heights called Chema-yundung-j)u, from 
which the river of the siime name takes its, and flows 
down (ircuitously to the contluence at Shamsiing. To the 
south-cast the position of the Xangsii-la is pointed out to 


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mountains, where the river 
across a few days before, 

has its 

me heyond the nearest 
chu, which we came 

We go down among moraines, granite detritus, and 
houlders. Here three small clear moraine i)ools, called 
Tsoniti, lie at different heights. The ground becomes 
more level, and we pass a mani, a rivulet trickling among 
the rubbish, and a small pond, Ix-fore we reach camp 200 
in Lhayak, on the bank of the Kubi-ts;m,m^o, where the 
pasturage is excellent and we find numerous traces of 
nomad cam{)s. In .several places we come across large 
sheets of fine thin birch bark, which have been detached 
by storms and carried by the wind over the mountains 
from the south. 

Our three musketeers told us that all the nomads now 
sojourning in the Shamsiing I'.istrict would come up here 
in a few weeks to stay a month and a half, till the snow 
drove them away again. In winter the snow lies 5 feet 
deep, and many men and animals perish in the snowdrifts, 
when the herds go too high up the mountains and are 
surprised by early heavy falls of snow. The autumn 
before, I was told, 2;^ yaks were grazing up at the foot 
of Xgomo-dingding when it began to snow furiously. 
Several herdsmen hurried up to drive the animals down 
to lower ground, but the snow was heai>ed up in such 
large quantities that they had to turn back lest they 
should perish themselves. In the spring they went up, 
and found the skeletons and hides of the unfortunate 
animals. The Shamsang Gova had lately lost some 
horses in the same way. Even the wild cannot 
escape from the spring snow. They cannot run when the 
snow is deep, and after trying in vain to reach bare 
ground, they die of starvation and 
snowdrifts. Our three guides, who 
summer up here, assured me that 
frozen in an upright position, and 

fours when the summer sun has thawed the snow. They 
had seen dead w-i!d a^^^es >;tandin(r in hen'^ ^c th'»"«Vi t*^ev 
were alive. 

The snow, which falls in winter on the source region 

are frozen m 
themselves pass 
the wild asses 
often stand on 










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of thi- Brahmaputra, melts in spring, and together with 
the river ice |)rfKluces a llotxl of far larger volume, it is 
said, than the summer flood produced by rain. This is 
j)robat)!y true of the ui)pirmost course of the Tsangpo, 
hut lower down the rain llo(jd is certainly the greater. 
In general, the variations in thi' water-level arc more 
marked in the higlur lands, and the further the water 
flows downstream the more the fluctuations tend to 

"Is not our country hard and terrible to live in? Is 
not the Homlxj Chimlxj's country (India) better?" asked 
my Tibetans. 

"I cannot say that; in India there are tigers, snakes, 
poisonous insects, heat, fever, and plague to contend with, 
which are not met with up here in the fresh air." 

"Yes, but that is better than the continual wind, the 
sharp cold, and the fruitless waiting for rain. This year 
we have only had a coui)le of light showers, and wc shall our herds if more rain does not come." 

"Well, the summer in Tibet is very i)leasant when it 
rains, while in India it is suffocating ; on the other hand, 
the winter in Tilxt is severe and cruel, but comfortable 
in India." 

"Tell us, BomlK) Chimlx), is it you, with your glass 
and measuring instruments, that are keeping back the 
rain this year? At this season it usually rains heavily, 
but you perhaps ])refer clear weather, to be able to see 
the country ami that the roads may not be soft." 

"Xo. I long for rain as much as you, for my animals 
are getting thin, and cannot eat their fill of this poor grass, 
which has stocxl here since last summer. Only the gods 
can control the weather, and the sons of men must take 
the rain and sunshine as they are sent to them from 

They looked at one another doubtfully. It was not 
the first time that they had ascribed to me powers as 
great as those of their own gods, and it would have been 
diflicult to Ini^e convinced them of their I'rror. 

'A midnight the men heard a one-year-old child crying 
and calling for help on the bank of the Kubi-tsangpo. 




They woke one another in astonishment, and Rab.s;inf^ 
and two Tibetans went off with a gun, thinking that it 
was a ghost. When they came near they heard the child 
weeping (juite distinctly, and our heroes were so frightened 
that they thought it safest to make all haste hack again. 
When 1 asked them how they knew that it was a year-old 
child, they answered, that from the sound it could not 
have been younger or older. When I suggested that it 
might have been a wolf cub, as there were no human 
beings in the neighbourhood, they declared that it must 
have been an uneasy spirit wandering about the bank. 

There must have been something sui)ernatural about, 
for I dreamed in the night that all the fragments of birch 
bark which we had seen on our ilay's ride were letter.!, of 
invitation from the Maharaja of Nepal, that I had accepted 
the invitation, and was lying half asleep on a soft carpet 
of grass and listening to the rustle of the warm wind 
among the cedars of the Himalayas. The dream was so 
vivid that I could not think all day long of anything else 
but the warm beautiful land behind the mountains. 

Even in camp No. 200 I |)crceived fairly clearly how 
the land lay, but we were not yet at the actual .source, 
and therefore we continued our march south-westwards on 
July 12. The foot of the snowy mountains seemed (juite 
near. The river is broad, and divided by islands of mud 
into several arms. On the left side of the valley, where 
we march, arc a couple of walls of green and black schist, 
but elsewhere old moraines extend on all .sides. We 
cross a stream flowing from the country below Dongdong 
to join the Kubi-tsangpo. The Tsechung-tso is a small 
moraine lake. The valley bottom rises slowly, and consists 
of loose material sparsely covered with grass. Occasionally 
a small erratic block of grey granite is seen. Rags, <lung, 
and fragments of bone lie on the summer camping-grounds. 
At length the river becomes as broad as a small lake, 
enclosed in morainic rubbish and driftsand. 

We camped at the stone wall of Shapka, one of the 
headquarters of the nomads. Here, on the right bank 
of the Kubi-tsangpo, stands a dark purple ndge of medium 
height with patches of snow, which melt in the course of 








till- summer. The hind at the foot f)f this colossiil moun- 
tain i> remark ihly, and instead of a tone of detritus 
there is a stream ixp.mdi'tl into a lake. 'I lu' water from 
the meUinj; snow ha> wa.Nned away all solid matter. 

.•\s wi' came to camj) \o. joi, at a hei^^ht oi 15,^83 feet, 
the |)eaks disiipiH'and in (loud>. hut ju.>>t Ix-fore .sun.set 
the sky cleared ami the last tlouils lloated away like lif^ht 
white steam over the glaciers of .Xj^omo dingding, which 
clearly displayed their grand structure, with high lateral 
moraines and concentric rings of grey lumpy terminal 
moraines. The surface, e.\cept where here and there 
blue crevasses yawned in the ice, was white with snow 
and the porous melting 'Tust. 

When the sun had .ei, nine peaks in a line from south- 
east to south-west sto(Kl out with remarkable sharpness. 
Raven-black pinnacles, clilTs and ridges rise out of the 
white snowhelds, and the glaciers emerge from colossal 
portals. .X whole village of tents ri.sing to heaven I The 
source of the Brahmaputra could not be embellished with 
a grander and more magnificent background. Holy and 
thrice holy are these mountains, which from their cold lap 
give birth and sustenance to the river celebrated from 
time immemorial in legend and song, the river of Tibet 
and .\ssam, the river p(ir iwrcllciur, the son of Brahma. 
One generation after another of black Tibetans has in the of thousands of years listened to its roar lx;tween 
the two loftiest mountain sy.stems of the world, the 
Himalaya and the Trans Himalaya, and one generation 
after another of the various trilx's of Ass;im has watered 
its fields with its life-giving (lotxls and drunk of its blcs.sed 
water. But where the source lay no one knew. Three 
c.\[)editions had determined its jwsition approximately, but 
none had been there. Xo geography had been able to 
tell us anytliing of the country round the source of the 
Brahmaputra. Only a small numlxr of nomads repiair 
thither yearly to spend a coui)le of .short summer months. 
Here it is, here in the front of three glacier tongues, that 
the river so revered by the Hindu tril)es begins its course 
of .some 1800 miles through the grandest elevations of 
the world, from which its turbid volumes of water roll first 



to the cast, then Miuth wards, ruttinj^ a wild valley thn)uj,'h 
t!u' Himalayas, a' 1 liiially tlouing south wcstuards over 
the plain> of Assam. \'hr upper Brahmaputra, the 
'I'siinj^po, is truly tin chief .irtei . (»f TilHt. for within its 
drainage basin is concentrated !ie j^reat mass of its 
|K)pulation, wiiili- it-, lower course is surrounded hy the 
most fruitful and populous provinces of Assiim. The 
Brahmaputra is therefore one of the nohU-st rivers of the 
world, and few waterways have a mori illustrious descent 
and a more vari( ' and more f^lorious career, for nations 
have prf)wn up . its banks and have lived there, and 
their history ami < ulture have Inen intimatily connected 
with it since the earliest tinus of human records. 

Busied with such tliouj^hts, I went out again in the 
evening to gaze at the clilTs of the nine peaks which 
showed like dim misty shadows, while the ice and snow- 
fields })elow, of the .siunc colour as the sky, were not 
Perceptible in the night. Then a Hash of lightning blazed 
up In hind Kubi-gangri, as the whole massive is called, 
and the crowned with eternal .snow .stcxxl suddenly 
out in sharp pitch-black contours. Singular, entrancing 
land, where spirit voices are heard in the ligh' and the 
sky blazes up in bluish light. I listened for a ng time 
to the brook Shapka-chu, gently trickling down its stony 
bed to the bank of the Kuiji-t.s;mgfK). 

We had still some way U) go before we ame to the 
actual source, and I could not conscientiously leave Kubi 
gangri without determining the absolute height of the source 
by the boiling-point thermometer. Our Tibetans were ex- 
ceedingly friendly, and seemed to take an interest in 
.showing us this point, of which I had spoken .so often 
during the past days and alx)ut which I had put so many 
cjuestiuns. I was really thankful for, and overjoytxl at, 
this unexpected favourable opi)ortunity of fixing the 
jxjsition of the .source, though I knew that my excursion 
to Kubi-gangri could only Ix- a very cursory and defective 
reconnaissance. A thorough e\i)loration )f thi> neighbour- 
hocxJ would ref'uire V!;tr-; for fh 

.» I r*^ rv^i 

here is short and the time for work is over in two months. 
But though I succeeded in learning only the chief outlines 

VOL. n 





of the physical RcnKraphy. I ran rr)unt this excursion as 
(»nc i)f the most important rvrnts of my last journey in 
'I'ilH-t. Accordini^ly. we (Urided to ride uj) to the Sf)ur(C 
next day, July i.v Only Ral)san>i, RoIktI. and a Tibetan 
were to aicompany me. The rest were to wait for our 
return under the command of Tscring. 





We started off in Ix'autiful weather, not a cloud hanging 
over the summits of Kubi-gangri. We followed the left 
bank of the Kubi-tsang[X), and rode along the UkA of the 
huge moraines, which here rise fully 470 feet above the 
valley IxUtom, and which were formerly thrown up on 
the left or western side of the gigantic glacier, whence pro- 
ceeded all the glacier t(jngues now remaining only in 
short lengths. The morainic character is plainly re- 
cognizable, sometimes in curve<J ridges and walls falling 
steeply on both sides, sometimes in rounded hillocks 
rising one above another. The surface is often covered 
with fine pebbles, grass, and lovely alpine flowers trying 
to make the most of the short summer. Here and there 
a landslip has taken place, and then it can be seen that 
the rock shows no trace of stratification. Occasionally we 
pass granite boulders, but they are small, the largest not 
more than 280 cubic feet. On the valley bottom are 
swamps with rank grass, and wild-geese are enjoying 
the summer in the ponds. We twice met with fresh 
spoor of small herds of wild yaks which had moved off 
to the right bank of the Kubi-tsangpo. The horses' 
hooves splashed in the swampy ground, seldom varied 
by small patches of boulder clay. 

Numerous rivulets descend from the moraines. They 
are fed by the melting snowfields, and therefore, in con- 
trast to the glacier brooks, are crystal clear. They have 
eroded deep valleys in the moraines, and one of them has 
deposited a great dejection cone at the mouth, over which 



S- S.^**«.T 


• if - -v--..t 





'( '1 

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•■ ' 


the brook falls in ten dianmls, carrying 106 cubic feet f)f 
water. A very considcraljjc proportion of llic upper Hra!i- 
mai)Utra's water is derived from melted snow. Rivulets 
rushed and spurted all about in the rubbish, and all came 
from the snowfields, which struggled in va' . against the 
heat of the spring sun. 

Now we have right in front of us the immense glacier 
which descends from an extensive t'lrn basin on the western 
foot of the Mukchung simo massive. Between its terminal 
moraines and the older moraines we have skirted, a rather 
voluminous .stream has eroded its valley. Its water is 
tolerably clear and green, so that it i)roceeds from .snow- 
fields. .\ little below the terminal moraine it unites with 
the numerous arms of the muddy glacier stream, of which 
the largest is the one which llows nearest to the foot 
of the Mukchung massive. Even 200 yards below the con- 
fluence the green water can be clearly distinguished from 
the brown, but afterwards the cold currents intermingle. 
Where the river, .still divided into a number of meandering 
arms, turns past camp 201 to the north-east, it receives 
considerable additions from the glaciers lying further cast, 
and thus the Kubi-tsangpo is formed. 

Then we ride up, zigzagging among lx)uldcrs and 
pebble beds, over ridges, banks, and erosion furrows, over 
brooks and treacherous bog, over and clumps of 
brushwocxl, to a commanding point of view on the top of 
the old moraine (16.452 feet). Before us is a chaos of huge, 
precipitous, fissured, black, bare rocks, summits, pyramicis, 
columns, domes, and ridges, moraines, tongues of ice, snow 
and firn fields — a scene hard to l)eat for wild grandeur. 

Here we made a halt, and I drew the panorama while 
the horses grazed on the slopes. The largest glacier, 
wliich comes from the Kubi-gangri proper, is entirely 
below us, and we have a bird's eye view of it. It is fed 
by three ditTerent firn fields, and has two distinct medial 
moraines, which here and there rise into ridges where 
the ice has been thrust aside. The right lateral moraine 
is well defined, and is .still partially covered with snow. 
The left is broad in its u|)i)er part but narrow below, 
where the green stre;im wa>hes its base. Up above, a 




glac" • from the west runs into the main glacier, and 
whc the two join the side glacier is thrown up into a 
mig! 'vall, which merges into the left lateral moraine 
of th o her. All the Ixjttom of the glacier front is buried 
in rublish, and the ice peeps out only here and there. 
Here are several small sheets of water, some of an in- 
tensely blue colour, others brown, with finely pulverized 
matter, showing that they are connectc-d with the water 
of the ground moraine. 'Iwo of these small pools have 
vertical sides of blue ice like entrances to marvellous fairy 
grottoes. A series of marginal crevasses are still partly 
covered with snow. The terminal moraine is a chaos of 
mounds, pebbles, and boulders, with patches of .snow on 
the shady side. In a hollow between these hillocks flows 
the middle glacier .stream, after pa:sing two ])ools. The 
terminal moraine does not increase in size, for its material 
is slowly disintegrated and washed away by ;e stream, 
which winds in several arms over the even bed of the 
valley lx)ttom just Ijelow in the most capricious curves. 

An excursion over the surface of the glacier would not 
be difficult when one was once ujjon it. There are many 
dangerous crevasses concealed under the .snow which may 
be avoided by kee[)ing to the rubldsh heaps of the medial 
moraines. The mass of the Kutu-gangri, which from our 
point of view lies farthest to the right, to the west-north- 
west, is called Gavc-ting; from it descends the great 
side glacier. 

The front of the main glacier, where the largest of all 
tiie glacier streams of the Kubi gangri ri.scs, is the actual 
source of the Hrahmaputra. The other streams which 
enter it south-east of camp 201 arc smaller and shorter. 
We could not get to them, for the horses simk too deep in 
the sand and mud of the main stream. 

On our return we made a halt at the place where the 
principal branch of the Kulji-ls.'ingpo comes out from 
under the ice, and I found that the source of the Brahma- 
putra lies at an altitude of 15,958 feet above sea-level. 
I leave details for the scientific report of this journey, 
which will Ix' published in due time. 

On July 14 it seemed verv hot in my tent, for even at 




h . 


r ( 

seven o'clock in the morning the temperature was 45- 1°; 
in the night there had i)een nearly 14^ degrees of frost. 
The sky was perfectly clear, and therefore I could not 
refrain from seeking another [)()int f)f view to investigate 
the beautiful glaciers of the Kubi-gangri. 

After arranging with Tsering ttiat he should meet us 
in the valley of the Dongdong river we nxle uj) the banks 
and ridges of the old moraine, through its hollows and 
over its terraces of barren soil, which was now soft and 
treacherous from the melting of the snow, past pools of 
clear, green water, and to the highest {xunt of its ridge, 
where there was nothing to hide the view. 

I took nine photographs, forming a consecutive 
series. Then a cloak was thrown over the stand to make 
a shelter against the strong wind, and in this sentry-lx).\ 
I Silt for nearly f(jur hours drawing a panorama which 
embraced the whole horizon. Meanwhile my companions 
lay down and snored, and I was glad to sit alone face 
to face with these royal mountain giants. The whole 
architecture is fantastically wild, and the only law which 
is strictly obser\al is that each glacier is confined between 
two huge black crests of rock. 

In order to give the reader a notion of the scene I 
here reproduce a [art of the panorama embracing the 
Kubi gangri (Illustration 242). To the south, 27° K., is a 
tetrahedral peak, which our guide called Xgoma-dingding. 
To the south, 11° E., rises another summit, of almost 
precisely the .same form, which is called Absi. On the 
east of it lies the Xgoma-dingfling glacier, and on the 
west the .Xbsi glacier. West of this .stands the lumpy 
Mukchung simo group, with its culminating point lying 
south, 24° W. The northern side resembles a stable with 
straight short stalls, each containing a small hanging 
glacier. To the south-west rise two sharp pinnacles, and 
in the south 57° W. a couple of dome-shai)ed summits con- 
sisting only of ice and snow; they Ix'long to the Langta- 
chen massive, and their firns feed to a great extent the 
glacier in tln' front of which the Brahmaputra takes its rise. 
So the glai ier mav Ik- called the Langta-chen. To the 
south. 70'^ W., 88° \V . and north, 83° W., rise the summits 

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of the Gavc-tinp ^Tf^up. To the north. 55° W.. three peaks of 
the Dongdonj; appear, from whii h one of thi- ^our(•es of the 
Hrahmaputra takes its rise, (juite insignitieant compared 
to the Kul)i tsanj,'|K). 

Towards tlie nortli-east the sharply defined valley of 
the Kuhi-tsan^po runs downwards, and in the distance 
are seen the mountains of Chanj; tanj,', j.yramidal peaks 
of singular uniformity, and crow<ie<l togrlhcr in great 
numlxTs, which form' a finc-ly jagged horizon, and in 
consecjuence of the great ilistanee mirge into the pink tint 
of the insignificant snowficlds. 'I'he Trans Himalaya seems 
on this side to widen out and Ix-come llaller than in the 


It was late when we rode down the steep path to the 
camp on the Dongdong. And now we had to hurry west- 
wards and make as many discoveries and collect as much 
information as j)osMl)le on forbidden paths, in spite cif the 
Mandarins and the Devashung. 

On July 15 we left our former route to the right and 
directed our stei)s northwards over intricate moraines, 
seeing the snowy ])eaks of Dongdong and Chema-yundung 
still more clearly from the pass Kargan-la. On the i6th 
the sky was overcast, a coui)le of hail showers fell, and the 
hills around us changed to white. We nxle north-west- 
wards past two small lakes, and again fell in with solid 
rock — green and black schist. From the Tugri-la we had a 
fine view over a world of mountains, the names of which I have 
no time to record. We crossed another siuldle, Sen Kamlxi la, 
to reach the broad open valley of the Chema-yundung river, 
which descends from a very extensive glacier in the south 
belonging to the Chema-yundung-i)u massive. Here w^re 
several nomad tents, and 'seven tents inhal)ited by pilgrims 
from Bongba stood on a rise. They were on their way 
with kith and kin to Kang-riniK)che to make the pilgrimage 
round the holy mountain. Most of the pilgrims from the 
far cast take this southern route and return over the 

July 17. It was verv hot in the saddle with a temper- 
ature {')f 50° and quite 'calm air. The brown puppy \yas 
very tired of travelling and drops fell from her hangmg 





. «^ 


'» I 

t'in<,'uc, l)iit slic (oiilil not leave the antelopes and hares in 
peaie. She d.irted after them full s|)ee(l. hut never iauj,'ht 
them, and laiiir I nick to me disipiMiinted, hut Ix-^an again 
the u^eie>> pur-uit. The Uonggak dm is an allluent of 
tl\i' C'hema, and comes from tlie north west. We left the 
littli' douliU' lake Kuru ( hok in the south. To tlu' west 
soutli we^t is tlie place where the Chema yundung reteivc-s 
the Anglic hu, the most westerly of all the headwaters of 
the Mralimai)Ulra. 

In the valley of the 'IVnrhung we encamped lH--ide 
some ace omnKMlating nomads, who c|ui( kly procured me 
fresh yak^, for tlie three musketeers turned hack here to 
Shamsang, after cloing their work well. Th.e whole 
excursion to the sources of the Hrahmajjutra had cost 
iio rupees, and it was well worth more. The natives 
said that ten rohhers had recently made the neighlK)ur- 
hood unsafe, 1)Ut immediately it was reporud that a 
I'Airopean caravan was ajiproaching Tynchung, they had 
entirely disai)peared, aiicl therefore we were regarded as 
deliverers, and the people could not do too much for us. 
A Hindu merchant from Almora was camping here, 
huying sheep's wool and salt from the nomads, and 
.selling them frie/e rugs and textiles from Agra and 

Next day we crossed the Marnyak la (i7,3C)5 feet) 
and had the \ngsi-clui immediately helow us, and on the 19th 
we left the river hehind and followed its small trihutary 
the- I.oang-gonga up to its .source at the very low pass 
Taml mg or Tag la, which is nothing more than a rise 
in an open longitudinal valley. Hut this pass is exceed- 
ingly important, for it is the watershed hetween the 
Hrahmaputra and Manasarowar. Its height is 17,382 feet. 
To the south is .s])reacl out a succession of snowy j)eaks, 
and to the west -south- west is scrn CJurla Mandatta cjr 
Memcnani, a majestic and imposing group which helongs 
to the- .same Ilim: ' \yan range as Kubi-gangri. The 
is situated among old moraines, where is the little 
in>ignil'icant lake Tamlung-tso, from which the Loang- 
g. )nga Hows out. .\t some distance to the south is seen 
the low watershed between the Angsi-chu and the Gang- 


SOLKCK OF rilK .S.\Cki:i> klVKK 


lunj^, a stream that romr-- fr.itn a massivt- <>f tin* samt- 
natnc, and. as tin- T.i^' t^.inj^iMi, falls into M 
The very lati>t m.ip^ of western 'I'ilHl ^;i\e a very 
incorrect representatinn of this (ountry. whii h has never 
Ix-en vi^!!e<i Ijy a MurojicMn iMt'dre In>tf,i'l of a ile.irly 
marked meridional ranj^e we found an open, hilly, lon^jitu 
dinal valley with the w.ilerslird running; amon^ its mo 
raines. Here we took leave of the IJrahni.ipiitra, after 
passinj^ half a year in its ha^in sin( e ( ro^^in^ the Sela la. 
We encamped at a place where the ( Jan>^ liinij river breaks 
throuf^h a rampart of moraines, I'ormin^ foaming cascades. 
Durinf^ the following day's journey it Hows tlirou^;h 
f^ranitic moraines, driftsmd, and morasses, and luHomcs 
a considerable stream, receiving; numiroiis aftluents from 
the .south. \ caravan of 50 \aks and eii^ht ;nin from 
Purang, armed with ^uns, and dad in blue with fur lined 
cloaks, were on the way to the fair in Gyanima. In the 
district Taj;ramo( he, where we bivouac keil, were many 
nomads and beggars with staves and bundles on the way 
to the holy mountain. We also met six merchants from 
Ladak, who were carrying dried peaches for sale on 45 
asses. They had left home a month and a half ])revioUsly. 
On July 21 we rode down tlie Tage-buj) valley among 
savage dilTs. On its bottom Hows the Tagetsangpo, 
changing its colour from light green over sandy ground to 
bluish-purp' • over dark detritus. Langchen-kamba is a 
small side-valley on the right, from which robbers are 
wont to sidly forth against clefencele>s tr.ivellers. 
below the valley a .si)ring bubbles forth with crystal clear 
water at a temperature of 38°. It is considered holy, and 
is marked by a pcjle bedecked with rags and .streamers like 
a scare-crow. This spring is alstj called Langchen-kamba. 
A little farther down the spring Chakko stands on a 
steej) .slope cm the right bank, and its water (40.3°) is 
collected in a round pit 3 feet deep. A wall is erected 
about it, covered with flat stones, on which figures of 
Buddha and holy texts are carved. Leaves from the holy 
scriptures are thrust between I lie stones of the wall, and 
streamers and rags fl}- from a pole. Through the water, 
clear as a mirror, could be seen blue and red beads, two 

k 1 

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li£ 11 2.0 





"16; 482 - 0300 - P-.-ne 




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1 1 

inferior turquoises, some shells, and other trash, thrown in 
as olTerings by pious pilgrims. The water is supposed to 
have miraculous powers. Murmuring prayers, (nir guide 
filled a w(jo(lcn bowl with water and })oured it over the 
head and mane of his horse to protect it from wolve. 
With the same object he tied a rag from the pole on to 
his horse's forelock. lie drank himself a good draught- 
to render him invulnerable to the bullets of robber^ 
If a sheejj or other animal is ill it is only necessary to 
sprinkle it with the holy water to make it well again. 
When a traveller or j)llgrim stands at the well and pours 
water with both hands over his head, it guards him 
against falling into the hands of foot-pads, and from other 
misfortunes. And if he sits and meditates, drinks, and 
washes his head, hands, and legs, and has sufficient faith, 
then he finds gold coins and precious stones at the bottom 
of the well. The sick man who bathes his whole body 
in the miraculous water becomes strong again. It is a 
Lourdes in miniature. While my men were engaged in 
their ablutions I sat at the edge of the well and listened to 
the mystical music of the fluttering prayer-streamers, and 
found this fascinating Tibet more enigmatical at every 

Then we rode over the Tage-tsangpo, where its valley 
opens into the flat basin of Manasarowar — a new chapter 
in the chronicles of our journey. Again Gurla Mandatta 
showed itself in all its glory, and in the north-west Kang- 
rinpoche or Kailas, the holy mountain, like a great 
chhorten on a lama's grave, rose above the jagged ridge 
which forms the horizon in that direction. On seeing it 
all our men suddenly jumped out of their saddles and 
threw themselves down with their foreheads on the ground. 
Only Rabsang, a confirmed heathen, remained seated on 
his horse, and was afterwards well scolded by Tsering. 

We are now out on open hilly ground, and see a glimpse 
of the holy lake Tso-mavang or Manasarowar. We en- 
camp by a small lake called Tso-nyak, whither come Islam 
Ahun and Shukkur Ali, sent by Guffaru, who is become 
uneasy at our long absence. We send them back again 
to Tokchcn with orders lu GulTaru to proceed to the 



: ^ 

-Mi. -'15. I III MiiiNiMN-- \i nil. Smikci. .11 iHi. llr \ll\i \i'L 1 k x. 

<^*' v" " . --'■v-t-'.^'^' 







monastery Scrolung-gompa on the holy lake, where we 
will meet him. 

On July 22 wc rode over the Tage-tsangpo, which here 
carried 291 cubic feet of water, where Rabsang got a 
thorough wetting in consequence of his horse coming 
a cropper among the boulders in the bed. Tscring said 
that he deserved a dip because he had not saluted Kang- 
rinpoche. Camp 210 was set up in the broad valley 
Namarding, where a clear brook flows to the Tage- 
tsangpo. The wind blew strongly, and the Tibetans 
said that the waves on Tso-mavang were as high and 
dark as nomad tents. Should we venture in our little 
canvas boat on the lake, exposed to all the winds? It 
must be very rough before I consented to give up the 
trip, for the lake had long Ixjcn the subject of my dreams. 
Next morning Tundup Sonam appeared with the news 
that the Gova of Tokchen would not let his yaks on hire 
for the journey to Serolung. I had therefore to ride to 
Tokchen by a road over the pass Karbu-la, and down the 
river Samo-tsangpo ; it is full of fish, but we were asked 
not to disturb them, for they came up from the holy lake. 
We were all together again in Tokchen, and I found the 
Gova a decent fellow, who welcomed me with a large 
kadakh and a bowl of tsamba. 

Now an hour of parting was come, for I sent from 
Tokchen thirteen of my men home to Ladak. I had 
several reasons for this. I did not need so many men 
in western Tibet; twelve were enough, and a small light 
caravan accomplishes more and does not e.xcite so much 
notice. The men were to travel along the great highway 
to Gartok under the experienced leadership of GufTaru, and 
there deposit all the baggage I could spare with the British 
agent, Thakur Jai Chand. I also sent to him a letter 
packet of three hundred pages to my parents, beside other 
correspondence. Of particular importance was a letter to 
Colonel Dunlop Smith, in which I asked for 6000 rupees, 
provisions, books, revohcrs and ammunition, and things 
suitable for presents, such as gold and silver watches, as 
well as all the letters which must have accumulated at the 
Viceregal Lodge. 

S i 

^^tfmi^^r':: '^-^m^m ^^ r 





^,i t 

h I 

li i' 

On the first evening, when I called together all the 
twenty-five men and told them my decision to send away 
thirteen and asked which of them wished to go home, no 
one answered. They declared that they would follow me 
until I was tired of Tibet. Then I picked out thirteen 
and retained the best twelve men. Among these was 
Tashi, who with Tundup Sonam had accomplished the 
adventurous journev to Shigatse. But when he saw that 
I was in earnest about the dividing of the caravan, he 
begged me to let him go home, so he was exchanged for 

another man. . 

\Vc stayed here two days to put everything in order. 
After the baggage was rearranged I had only four bo.xes 
left and the rest were to be carried away by Guffaru. 
Robert sat in my tent like a money-changer and piled 
up sovereigns and rupees in small heaps, the pay, 
gratuities, and travelling expenses of the men who were 
going home. Our treasury was relieved of 21 18 rupees 
all at once. The important correspondence was enclosed 
in a case, which Guffaru carried in his belt. The men with 
him were allowed to keep two of our five guns. Late in 
the evening GutTaru came to my tent to receive his last 
instructions. Honest old GulTaru, he had in the autumn 
of his life performed wonders in the winter in Chang-tang, 
alwavs composed and contented, always doing his duty in 
the smallest particular. Now he sat, with the tears falling 
on to his white beard, and thanked me for all I had done 
f>r him during the past year. I bade him weep no more 
but rejoice that the hard time was over for him, and that 
he could return safe and sound to his people with 400 
rupees in his purse. When we left Leh he was as poor as 
a church mouse, and now he was a rich man for his position, 
anfl he had not needed his shroud. I told him that I 
should miss him vcrv much, but that I could not entrust 
the valuable baggage and important letters to any other 

hands but his. , 

When I came out of mv tent early on the morning ot 
the 26th the thirteen yaks were laden and the thirteen men 
wtic readv to march off with their Tiln-tan guides. _ T 
thanked them for their faithfulness and patience during 





the time when they were exposed to so many dangers m 
my service, lK>g<;c(l them to rememljcr that they were 
responsible for the caravan on the way home, and told 
them that thev must obey Guffaru, aisd that their character 
would suffer i'f they did not Ix-ar with one another on the 
way If they were as conscientious on this journey as m 
my 'service, it would be well for them in the future, 
and perhaps our paths might cross again. 

Then old Guffaru came forward, and fell on his knees 
before me, weeping loudly, and all the others in turn 
followed hir. example amid sobs and tears; I clapped 
them all on the shoulder and hoped that this bitter hour 
would soon be over. Then they took leave of their 
comrades, who, deeply moved, sent greetings to their par- 
ents, wives, and children in Ladak, and they naarched 
off on foot, as they had travelled so many hundred miles, 
silent, drooping, and downcast, and soon disappeared be- 
hind the hills. 

k^ "J - 





1 1 




fir the services he had rendered us, and al the other 
Tbetans X had been friendly and helpful recaved 
nresent? The dividing of the caravan had also the 
advantairc that the Tibetans supposed that we were all 
makTng or the same destination by different routes and 
Tat T should join Guffaru in Gartok and continue my 
journey to Ladak, as directed on the passport. 

With Robert, Rabsang, and two Tibetans J "o^. th^ 
down the Tokchen valley and up o-r f e 1.1b ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

.u » T^ «liP rirrht of our route the turquoise uiuc 

ruracrS'thl hdy lake is di'splayed; how beautiful, how 
surface ot me roy ^ ^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^ 

S' nl ea^sil on'Ss a pleasure in life one longs to 
ovace over the blue depths and the sacred waves For 
M^nasarowar is the holiest and most famous of all the 
lies of the world, the goal of the pilgrimage of innumer- 
It iSous Hjncius', a lake celebrated in ^e most -^^^^^ 
religious hymns and songs, and in its f^'^J ;^^t^^=;^^ 
■ishes of Hindus find a grave as desirable and honourea 
fin the turbid waters of the Ganges. During m^y s^ay 
•" i^Air, T rproivod letters iroin Hmaus m -.viiKu i-'- ) 
L"kSt. toTxptec thravcrcl lake ami the holy moun- 



J (II. llill I \N^ 

liil. I! \NK HI I 111 > ''■1 \ 1^ \> 

(iRiiri' UF N\11\K> HI l.\\l.\I\R. 

247. (iRiHI' 



' i '- ■ 





L '•i 



tain Kailas, which lifts its summit in the north under a 
cujx)la of eternal snow, where Siva, one of the Indian 
Trinity, dwells in her paradise amonp a host of other 
deities; and they told me that if I could give them an 
exact description of the lake and river, they would 
remember me in their prayers and their gods would bless 
me. But that was not why I longtxl to Ix; there. The 
lake had never lx;en s<junde<l — I would sink my lead to 
the bottom and make a map of its bed ; I would follow 
its periphery and calculate how much water iK)urs into 
its bosom on a summer day; I would investigate its 
hydrographic relation to the adjacent lake on the west, 
the Rakas-tal, a problem which various travt-llers in this 
region, from Moorcmft and Strachey to Ryder and 
Rawling, have explained difTerently; I would learn some- 
thing of the monasteries and the life of Hindu and Tibetan 
pilgrims, for the lake is sacred in the eyes of Lamaists 
also, who call it Tso-mavang or Tso-rinpoche, the "Holy 
Lake." How can Manasarowar and Kailas be the ob- 
jects of divine honours from two religions so different as 
Hinduism and Lamaism unless it is that their over- 
powering beauty has appealed to and deeply impressed 
the human mind, and that they seemed to belong rather 
to heaven than to earth? Even the first view from the 
hills on the shore caused us to burst into tears of joy at 
the wonderful magnificent landscape and its surpassing 
beauty. The oval lake, somewhat narrower in the south 
than the north, and with a diameter of about 15^ miles, 
lies like an enormous turquoise embedded loetween two 
of the finest and most famous mountain giants of the 
world, the Kailas in the north and Guria Mandatta in the 
south, and between huge ranges above which the two 
mountains uplift their crowns of bright white eternal snow. 
Yes, already I felt the strong fascination which held me 
fettered to the banks of Manasarowar, and I knew that 
I would not willingly leave the lake before I had listened 
until I was weary to the song of its waves. 

We sat an hour and enjoyed the incomparable beauty 
of the scene. A slight ripple ruffled the surface of the 
water, but in the middle the lake was as smooth as if oil 






J I. 


1 ■. 111.. 'I'ilKtaiis said that it was 

alwavs smooth m tlic mvl\W ^x'^i't '\''\W,.^,„ tin- twc. 
To the -uthsouthwpt an ..uh..^^^^^^ ^^, 

I he IilK-tans cant I m>. j snowy 

sometimes Memo nan. Sou h. Oo ^^ .^ '^ " ^,^^, ,,J. 

height. ri.e '-'-'' /'-.^r^'an;^^' lull where Chiu- 
northwe>t is ^^'^^ ^^^^ "'\ ". '" .^aer channel whieh 

M<,untain," dominates \hc oruon unk s .t. ^^ ^^^^ 

to Chang tang ^^.^^^^^ ^^^ . ^j^^^^^t of a l)oat 

When I -^^^^ ' ^^"\^^.^. ^j,,,vered unhesitatingly that it 
trip across he ^'^l^ ; ^'^^^^.j^^ ,,,„t,„,a ..n the lake, which 
was impossible, mortals %mij ^ ^ ^j^^ 

was the home of the goes, ^^^'J''^^\^ ,horc, but 
mid.lle Tso-mavang was not Ic cl as on ^^^^^ 

fo.^ed a t--;-^J^--^^^^^L:Sl^ getting the 

::^^^:^a^s:! n^^^it^ '^^^ 

^'^^^^mounted again and rcxle somK^south-we^ ov.r 
the hills to Serolung. ^h^_«<•Slen in' ' tl hollow, 
monastery Serolung gompa ^^^.^^^^^j^^^" ,^5 and notes. 
There I staved four ^ours making sketche. ^ 

,vce a-.-.av -■••"■•^,^. - - t ,i|,e precious ^loncs m 




1 1 

h.„H- of arc.uiriiiK m.rit in a future form of cxistinci-. ..f 
Ixin^.' fnrd from the l-unkn of sin and tlic torturi> of pur 
^atorial tlrrs. nav. iur:iai)S. of sitting at tli.' Irtt of thf 
mMJs ami catinu is,iml>,i out of golden Inmls. 

Our (.ain|i NO- -'"-' ^^'i^ pitdud imnu-diatily south 
of tlu' nioutli of tlu' Serolung valley at the water's edge. 
'Ilie strip of <;round on the hank i> (\u\U- narrow, and on 
the hilU rising' to the ea>t of it are vi^lile six horizontal 
strand lines, the hiuhe>t lying 162 feet ahove the present 
kvel of the lake, which is i.s,ogS fet't the sea. 

On July 27 I had a ^kkI >Ke]). and spent the rest 
of the dav in making preparations for the hrst line of 
soundings, 'whic'i was to cross the lake in a direction south. 
cn°\V., where a ga|. appeared in the hills framing the 
i'lke We waited for go<xl weather, but the wind l)lew 
violJntlv and the surf l)eat and foamed against the shore. 
I therefore resolved to wait till night, for of late the nights 
hafl l)een calmer than the days. On a trial trip we had 
found u depth of no feet not far from the shore, so wc 
made rcadv a sounding line 490 feet long. Perhaps even 
this would' not be long enough, for a lake lying among 
such high mountains is sure to be deep. Shukkur All 
was to go with me. and he accepted his fate with his 
usual composure, but Rehim Ali. the other victim was 
frightened ; it was all very well in the day. he said, but 
in the dark gloomv night on such a great lake. \\e 
should certainly have the same trouble as on Lake 
Lighten, he thought. 11 

When the sun set the wind increased in strength, and 
heavy clouds spread up from the south-west. At seven 
o'clock it was pitch dark all round, not a star shone out. 
not a trace was visible of the outline of the shore and 
of the snowv mountains, and the sea was buried in the 
shades of night. But an hour later the wind fell, the 
air became quite calm, but the waves beat in a monotonous 
rhythm on the bank. The smoke of the camp f^res rose 
straight up into the air. 

then I gave orders to set out. The baggage was 

sioweii ana tne mast stepjjea tu ijv rtao_r a ••' - 

favourable wind. Provisions for two days were put in 

VOL. II ' 







I* ' 



h^ •) 



the ')oat I wore a leathern vest, Kashmir boots, and an 
Indian helmet, and sat on a cushion and a folded fur coat 
on the lee side of the rudder, on the other side of which 
the sounding line with its knots lay ready on the gunwale. 
The lot;, Lyth's current meter, was attached to the boat to 
register the whole length of the course, and compass, watch 
note-book, and map sheets all lay close beside me, lighted 
by a Chinese paper lantern, which could be covered with 
a towel when we did not want the light. I used the towel 
after every sounding to dry my hands. Rehim^ Ah took 
his seat forward, Shukkur Ali in the stern half of the boat, 
where we were cramped for room and had to take care 
that we did not get entangled in the sounding-line. 

Tsering took a sceptical view of the whole adv'enture 
He said that the lake was 'ull of wonders, and at the best 
we should bo driven back by mysterious powers when we 
had" rowed a little way out. And a Tibetan agreed with 
him, saving that we shoukl never reach the western sho c 
though we rowed with all our might, for the la':e god would 
hold our boat fast, and while we thought that it was advanc- 
ing it woukl really remain on the same spot, and finally the 
anlrrv god would draw it down to the bottom. 

Robert had orders to wait at camp No. 212 for our 
return, and when we put off from the bank at nine o clock 
all bade us farewell in as warm and gentle a tone as 
though thev thought that ihey had seen the last of us 
Their spiriis were not raised by the lightning which 
flashed in the south and might portend a storm. 1 he 
darkness, however, was not so intense, for the moon was 
coming up, though it was still covered by the hills rising 
behind our camp But its light threw a weird gleam over 
the lake, and in the south Gurla Mandatta rose like a 
ghost enveloped in a sheet of moonshine, snowfields, and 

^^'^'\T mv command the l)oatmen took a f\rm grip of the 
oars and" the boat glided out from the beach, where our 
men stoo<l in a silent thoughtful group. Our fires were 
.cen for a while, but soon disappeared, for they^were burn- 
in" almost on a level with the water, k.-ncrt lum me after- 
wards that the little boat sailing out into the darkness was 




a curious sight; owing to tlir lantern and the reflexion 
of the light on the ma>t the lx)at was visible at first, 
but when it reached the moon lighted part of the lake 
it appeared only as a small black spot, which soon 


The great lake was dark and mysterious in the night, 
and unknown depths lurked Uneath us. The contours of 
the hills on the shore were still visible Ix'hind us, but we 
had not gone far Ixfore they were swallowed up by 
higher mountains farther off, which gradually came into 
view. After twenty minutes' rowing we stopped and let 
down the line, sounding 135 feet. The roar of the surf 
on the beach was the only sound in the silence of 
night, except the splash of the oars and the voices of the 
oarsmen singing in time with their strokes. At the next 
sounding the depth was 141 feet. If the bottom did not 
fall more rapiilly our line would be long enough. Every 
hour I ?orded the temperatures of the air and the water. 
Now the god of sleeo paid us a visit; Shukkur Ali yawned 
at every ninth stroke, and every yawn was so long that it 
lasti.'d three strokes. 

The AT is quite still. A long, smooth swell causes 
the boai to rock slightly. All is quiet, ar.v! I ask myself 
involuntarily if other beings are listening to the splash 
of the oars as well as ourselves. It is warm, with 
a temperature of 46.9° at eleven o'clock. The next two 
depths are 143 and 164 feet. My oarsmen follow the 
soundings with deep interest, and look forward to the 
point where the depth will begin to decrease. They thirik 
it awful and uncanny to glide over such great depths in 
the dark night. Again blue lightning flashes behind Gurla 
Mandatta, which stands forth in a pitch-black outline, after 
appearing just before in a white rolx; of moonlighted 
snowfields. A Httle later all the southern sky flames up 
like a sea of fire; the flashes quickly follow one after the 
other, and shoot up to the zenith, seeming to stay a moment 
behind the mountains, and it lx;comes light as day, but 
when the glow dies out the darkness is more intense, and 
the sublime, poetic solemnity of the night is enhanced. 
By the light of the flashes i can see the faces of the two 


' -if 







!' I 



men who arc startled and uneasy, and do not dare to dis- 
turb the awful stillness l.v their sin^inj,'. 

When 1 let down the line at the tilth i.oint, the two 
men asked permi^ion to light their .-^'^^'^'Jlf ", Jlj^. 
(lenth was iSi feet. A sh-ht south v.e>terl> brcc/c 

i led the surface. Th- cry of a water-b.rd broke slm ly 
oi'the silence of the nif^ht, and made us feel less lonel>^ 

\ sliuht hi>s of the surf breakin- on the south-ea>tern 
Ire 'was audible. In the south the clouds ,athc^.d round 

the summit of Gurla Mandatta, the breeze fell. We glided 
low V over the inkv black water, and betwe-en the wave 

cre^t; the path of moonlight wound in bright sinuosities, increased slowlv 183.4 feet, 189.3. 192, and 212.6. 

The Vempe^ature was still 45-9°, and I did not want my 

"^Thf queen of night, with diamonds in her dark hair, 
looks down upon the holy lake. The midnight hour is 
passed, and the earlv morning hours creej) slowl> on. \\e 
scmml 203, 200. 184, 184. 180, and 190 feet, and it seems 
herefore 'as if we had passed the deepest depressio . 
Leaning on the gunwale I enjoy the voyage U. the full 
for nothing I remember in my long wanderings in Asia can 
ompare with the overpowering beauty of this noc urru. 
sail I seem to hear the gentle but powerful beat of he 
great heart of Nature, its pulsation growmg weaker m the 
arm of night, and gaining fresh vigour in the glow of 
he morninS red. The scene, gradually changing as the 
ours go by, seems to belong not to earth but to the 
utermost boundarv of unattainable _ space as though 1 
"v much nearer heaven, the misty fairyland of dreams and 
n ac^ination, of hope and yearning, than to the earth with 
is mortals its ca^es, its sins, and its vanity. I he moon 
descHbl^ ils arch in the sky, its restless rel exion ciuiver- 
ing on the water, and broken by the wake of the boat. 

The queen of night and her robe become paler. Ihc 
dark skv passes into light blue, and the morn draws nigh 
tm th'e \'ast. There is a faint dawn over the -ster^ 
mountains, and soon thar omhnes^^tand ^ out ^^sluir^.^ ^^ 

though cut <.ut on OiaCK papel. iuC \ ;;: \„uiph 

in.' white over the lake, as.sume a faint rosy hue, which 




graduallv grows stronger, and is roH rtcd on the smooth 
water, calling forth a garden of fresh ruses. We row among 
floating rose-beds, there is an odour of mornmg and pure 
water in the air, it grows lighter, the landscape regams 
its colour, and the new dav, July 28, begins its triumphal 
progress over the earth. Only an inspired pencil and magic 
colours could depict the scene that nut my eyes when the 
whole country lav in shadow, and only the highest peaks 
of Gurla Mandatla caught the first gleam of the rising sun. 
In the growing light of dawn the mountain, with its snow- 
fields and glaciers, had shown silvery white and cold; but 
now! In a moment the extreme points of the summit 
began to glow with purple like li(iuid gold. And the 
brilliant illumination crept slowly like a mantle down the 
flanks of the mountain, and the thin white morning clouds, 
which hovered over the lower slopes and formed a girdle 
round a well-defined zone, floating freely like Saturn's 
ring, and like it throwing a shadow on the fields of eternal 
snow, these too assumed a tinge of gold and purple, such 
as no mortal can describe. The colours, at first as light 
and fleeting as those of a young maiden in her ball dress, 
became more pronounced, "light concentrated itself on the 
eastern mountains, and over their sharp outlines a sheaf of 
bright rays fell from the upper limb of the sun upon the 
lake. And now day has won the victory, and I try 
dreamily *o decide which spectacle has made the greater 
impression on me, the quiet moonlight, or the sunrise with 
its warm, rosy gleam on the eternal snow. 

Phenomena like these arc fleeting guests on the earth; 
they come and go in the early morning hours, they are 
only seen once in a lifetime, they are like a greeting from 
a better world, a flash from the island of the phoenix. 
Thousands and thousands of pilgrims have wanaered 
round the lake in the course of centuries, and have seen 
the dawn and sunset, but have never witnessed the dis- 
I)lay which we gazed upon from the middle of the holy 
lake on this memorable night. But soon the magical 
effects of light and colour, which have quickly followed one 
another and held me entranced, fade away. The country 
assumes its usual aspect, and is overshadowed by dense 








! ) 


, , K.\U<, and Gurla Mandatta vanish entirely, and 
clouds. ^^^^^'^^'7r_, away to the north-west is still dyed 
only a snowy crest far away ^« j j sunbeams pene- 

a deep carmine, only .y^^^l'^'.^/f ".j, in that direction 

trates through -JP^^'s tinged it ! but to the south 

the mirror of the lake is unb^ 

' Th. wild-geese j^^ve w^aked up am th y ^^^^ 

lard cackling on their 3oyous ^'^Jf ^^^^^^^^ _^^^^ 

a gull or tern screams. Lund cs o^ sea^ ^^^ , 

'^^H %^X::Z^ ; Ll^m^Ll^listurlUe water. 
^^ a^ikT-thc cleLest^^g. -n. W mo^s 
^^.ith weary slowness to its ^^'-^t;";;^^;^ ^.^^i .^d sleepy 
o'clock in the morning, 7 J^'-^^J^ " f^^'' '^y sleep and 
and quite at an end of ^^e"- /trength^ 1 n y H^^^^^ 
row alternately. jHcm-n.alv^^^^^^ calls^^ ^^^^^^.^^^^^ 
Ali, accenting the ^f fll\^;^ i,,t,veen, and the oar 
S: t' tt'ain Ms 'own voice ^vakes him up. he dips 
the oar in and goes to sleep again. ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ 

The hours pass by, bu ^^^"'' '' ^y.^hich bank is 
Hearing our destin^ition. ^^e ^nno ^ -le^^^^^ ^^^.j,,, 

rr'^T'le'Usrof Gurla Mandatta is seen a huge 
ake. In the midst 01 .y"''^ standing out pictur- 

deeply eroded ravine, Us '^'''^^\^^X^^^For a moment, 

T^'^^lfaToun f u:y"^S'ln1hadtv:- the interior was 
when all around uiy uu ^_„^„rited a fantastic appear- 

Hghtca up l'y,'\7-,:,1„'oP S of .he gigantic dome 
ancc. rcscmbl ng a 1. tal mw •> ^^ „ „ and 

lightwl up hy '""7'^"'*,^'" a ncrcnt spurs of the 
erosion channels Ijetwcen the <t^ ^™j J „„ j^kc 

massive are *-Ply d^fij^^; ™ ^ ™ rgins of which 
among (iat cones of detruus, nc o b ^^^ ^^^.^ 

cause the in the dq th o ^^^^ ^^ 

now increases ^se "nSU he 1» torn temperature is 


gr^rnoS the r,nSne;:r^;;adrthe temper. 

i ( 




\ i'^-3r:'rMr--7^':r-i^Z 



< I 




I <i 




ature of the surface water and the air must be ascertained, 
and the log-reading taken. 

Five furlongs to the north the smooth swell shows a 
curious fiery yellow colour, and I cannot make out the 
origin of this singular reflexion. The clouds gather in 
the south-west, and a breeze sweeps over the lake, pro- 
ducing waves which retard still more the progress of 
the boat. Rchim AH cannot keep himself awake any 
longer, and Shukkur Ali is very comical in his over- 
powering sleepiness. The old man looks like a weather- 
beaten sea-dog in a south wester — his Ladaki cap with its 
spreading flaps. He snoozes innocently with his oars up, 
and rows again and again in the air, still calling out his 
constant "Shu-ba-la-la." He talks in his sleep. Rehim 
Ali wakes up and asks him what is the matter, and no one 
knows what it is all about. Towards seven o'clock the 
dustman pays me a visit, but is not admitted. Only for 
a moment I see red wild asses running over the water, 
hear harps playing sweetly in the air, and behold the great 
black head of a sea-serpent rise above the waves and then 
sink down again; green dolphins and small whales arch 
their backs among the waves — but no, I must keep awake, 
for a storm may come down upon us any moment. I give 
my boatmen a good douche with the hollow of my hand, 
wash my own hands and face, and order breakfast — a hard- 
boiled goose egg, a piece of bread, and a bowl of milk, 
and then I light my pipe and am as lively again as a lark. 
At the twentieth sounding-place, 259 feet deep, the other 
two follow my example. 

At nine o'clock, when we have been exacdy twelve 
hours on the water, we sound a depth of 268.4 feet, but 
the south-western shore seems to our eyes as far off as 
ever. Rehim Ali thinks it is awful to have so much water 
under the keel. The clouds on Gurla lift a little, and we 
see deeper into the recesses of the great valley the more 
we come opposite its mouth. The lower ix)ints of the 
snowfields come into sight below the clouds. West of 
them is seen a broad erosion channel, grey with detritus 
and dotted with dark brushwixxl. The water reflects the 
forms of the mountains like a mirror; it turns blue when 




II ' 




the sky is clear, but green again as soon as the clouds 
gather. A shoal of fishes plays in the water and splashes 

on the surface. . ,,r i- 1 i i 

\n<l again the hours of the day pass by. We glide s owly 
forwards, now over calm rising swell, whispering gently as 
spirit voices, now over small pyramidal waves produced by 
the meeting of two svstems of undulations from different 
directions. Four small s(iualls from different quarters 
threaten us, Imt we catch only a flip of their tails, 
which cannot stir up the waves to a dangerous height. 
The last, from the .south-east, is the strongest, and 
then the .sail is hoisted. But still the shore seems far 
distant; perhaps Tsering was right with his Lamaistic 

^' AH " details, however, become sharper and clearer. 
Gurla turns three mighty gables towards the lake, 
and between them huge fans of detritu.s and erosion 
channels come to view. The fans become flatter towards 
the shore, and extend under the water down to the 
greatest depths of the lake; on the north shore, where 
a wide plain lies, the lake bottom might be expected to 
sink more slowly. Gurla is a splendid background to the 
holy lake - no artist in the world could conceive anything 
more magnificent and interesting. 

Then wc sounded 253, 243, 253, 223, 190, 177. and »2 
feet and perceived at length that the shore was near, tor 
yaks and sheep were visible on the hills. The sea was 
now fairly high, and we had to bale the boat twice, and my 
fur coat on the bottom was wet. The two tired and 
sleepy men laboured painfully at the oars. We talked of 
how pleasant it would be to land, kindle a fire, and tike 
our tea and food, but the shore still retired before us, and 
the hours of the afternoon slipped past. Gurla seemed to 
rise in the south directlv from the water, its level skirts 
and low slores being much fore.shortened. The monks 
of the monastery here do not depend for water on the 
brooks, but drink the holy water of the lake, which has m 
realitv the taste of the purest, most wholesonie, spnng 
water. Its crystal purity and dark greenish blue colour 
are as beautiful as the flavour, and to pilgrims from a 






distance the water of Munasarowar is preferable to spar- 
kling chumpagne. . . . • .u„ 

\t list we were released from imprisonment in the 
Ixrit We siiw the bottom through the clear water and 
a few strokes of the oar brought the lx)at to a wall of clay 
and decaying weeds, which the winter ice had Pushed up 
on the bank Inside the wall lies a longish lagoon, ^^. t h 
nmd in which one sinks to the kiiee. I he time was half- 
past one, so we had bee.i 16^ on the lake But 
Ivhen we had reached the shore we found it impossible to 
Lu-t on land. After 1 had thought over the matter while 
the men looked about them, we rowed northwards, and 
after an hour and a half discovered a place where the boat 
could be drawn ashore. Then we had been eighteen 
hours on the water. ^ , 

A herdsman was seen, but he made off quickly. Fue 
was collected and a f\re lighted. Tea was infused and 
mutton fried, and when the three of us had eaten our 
dinner a temporary tent was constructed of the oars, mas^, 
and sail, in which I lay down to sleep towards seven o clock 
wrapped in my fur, and with the life-buoys for a pillow I 
had toiled for thirty-one hours contmuously, so I went to 
sleep at once, and knew nothing of the storm which raged 
all night, or of the twenty-five pilgrims who passed by at 
dawn on their circuit of the holy lake. 



I ' 




h ^ 



. .1 

! .1 

I WAS awakened at six o'clock, havinj? felt no cold in the 
night, for tlic minimum temperature was 40°. The morn- 
ing was fine, only too warm; the j)ilgrims had gone away; 
we ate our breakfast, pushed the Ixjat into the water, and 
rowed about 90 yards from the shore towards the north- 
north-east and north-north-west, descriljing a slight liend 
to canip No. 214. On our left hand was a row of pebble 
mounds, gradually rising to the top of the promontory 
which separates Manasarowar from Rakas-tal. 

Soon the monastery Gossul-gompa was seen on its 
pebble terrace, nearly 130 feet high, like a swallow's 
nest hanging over the lake. A group of lamas stood 
silently watching the boat; they had never in their lives 
seen such a contrivance on the holy lake. When we 
drew near they vanished like rats into their holes, and 
only an old man remained sitting by a balustrade. I 
asked him the name of the monastery, and he said Gossul- 
gompa. The next point shut out the convent. The 
shore lagoons continue, though the margin below the hills 
is only 30 to 60 feet broad. The clay in which the 
lagoons are embedded is impermeable t(} water, but the 
lake has only to rise a couple of feet to find an outlet over 
the sandbank behind into the Rakas-tal, or Langak-tso, 
on the w{ t. And when the channel at the north-west 
corner is silted up, as it is now, the Manasarowar has a 
subterranean outlet to the ndghbouring lake, and its 
water consequentlv remains perfectly fresh. 

I now intended to camp a little to the north at some 





suitable spot, and thence row the followinR day over the 
like to our headquarters near SerolunRRompa. We tcK.k 
iK-arinKS of a cinnabar red hill lyin^ on the north side of 
a ^liKhtlv indented bay of the western shore. A fresh 
southerly' breeze was blowing, we hoisted the sai , and 
"flew whizzing over the lake. The {nlgrims watched our 
vovage with the greatest astonishment, and the monks 
of' (iossul cautiously followed us on the hills, no doubt 
wondering how such sacrilege would end. The wild- 
geese swam with their young ones out into the lake, 
while other swimming birds took themselves off some 
loo yards inland, perhaps taking the boat for a curious 
water bird of unusual size. 

We went ashore at the red promontory, and while tue 
was being collected and the camp arranged, I reconnoitred 
the neighbourhootl from the heights alx)ve the landing- 
place. On the inner side of the shallow bay I found a 
hollow with its Ijottom lower than the surface of the lake, 
and filled with salt water, and on the west side of this 
swamp lies the lowest dip in the isthmus separating the 
twin lakes. Up there runs the pilgrim road, worn down 
by hundreds of thousands of weary feet. Three armed 
horsemen rode along the way. They came up without 
dismounting, and evidently did not know what to make of 
me. They could easily have taken me prisoner now that 
I was separated from my men, but they did not think of it, 
and rode on. A furious storm swept over the lake, its 
surface was wildly agitated, and covered with white horses. 
The farther, eastern part was of a deep green colour, 
while on our western shore it was lighter. The water 
of the shore lagoons was dark purple from the reflexion 
of t*-, dense clouds. Towards four o'clock the air became 
oppressively still, then the wind sprang up, and an equally 
violent north-west storm came down raging and roaring. 
The wild south-easterly waves were suppressed by it, and 
the undulations remained uncertain till the new wave 
system was established. There was rain in many places 
round the lake, but we felt only a few drops. About six 
o'clock the skv looked ihreulening, with pilch dark clouds 
all around, and not a trace could be seen of the eastern 




Of AT. 

r ' 



shore; vvc seemed to stand on the roast of the ocean. 
Soon after the wind veered round to the east-south-cast, 
and then the surf Ix-at all the evening; aj^ainst our beach. 
How fortunate that the weather had not i)een like this the 
evening Ixfore ! 

We sat two hours by the fire and talked. Its flames 
flickered and darted in all directions, so that they singed 
Shukkur Ali's goat's Ixard. The weather was still so 
threatening that vvc made a shelter of the lx)at, in which 
I lay down early to sleep. Before dozing of! I listened to 
the roar of the waves, and thought I heard all kinds of 
mysterious sounds in the night, but it was only the cry 
of water-birds and the howling of the wind among the 

The men had orders to call me before sunrise, for we 
must hasten if we wished to reach camp Xo. 212 before 
darkness set in. It was scarcely light when I came cjut of 
my shelter. The last provisions were consumed by the 
mcirning fire, and then we put otT alx)Ut four in 
dull, disagreeable weather. The strong west wind carried 
us "-apidly away from the shore — indeed, it was really too 
strong for our sail and mast, but it took us on and doubled 
our pace. We had lx;en sheltered under the hillo, but 
when we were a few minutes from the beach the lake 
became uncomfortably rough. But it was of little con- 
sequence, for we sailed with the waves and took in no 

The men, too, were more alive than on the first 
nocturnal voyage. They had evidently made up their 
minds to reach their destination before night, and they 
rowed like galley-slaves with the whip hanging over 
them; they seemed to run a race with the west wind, and 
try to get away Ix'fore the waves rose too madly. The 
water hissed and foamed round the boat, and bubbled 
in the wake as when butter is browned in a pan, and 
beneath us the lake boiled up. It was a fine voyage as 
we nxked, spinning rapidly over the holy waves. 

Shukkur Ali's refrain to the strokes of the oars is now 
'"Va i)ate, ])arvardigar Rabel, alehmin" or "iiialiah," while 
Rehim .\li responds to the cry of his comrade with "Haap" 




'' ^H 


•^ 1 







— the p jerked out quickly and loudly like an explosion 

— and with the refrain "lllallah," or "Svalallah." The 
Arabic words arc. as usual in Ladak, much corrupted, but 
they lighten the work, and after Shukkur Ali had yelled 
them out thirty-five times in a minute for nine hours as 
loudly as his vocal chords would let him, he was dreadfully 
hoarse in the evening. 

Then the soundings were 131, 171, 171, i77' 177- i^S, 
187, and 177. Out lx;yond the abrasion terrace and its 
rather steep escarpment, the lake bottom is p.actically 
level. Hanging cloud fringes show that rain is pouring 
down in torrents on most sides, but we escape it. 
My excellent boatmen row twice as fast as on the first 
night, but it is impossible to induce them to row in time. 
If I loose the rudder a moment my boat falls off to the 
north or south instead of making east, where camp No. 
212 lies. If it is dark before we reach the shore, our men 
are to light a pile of wood to guide us. 

The day draws to an end, the wind sweeps away the 
clouds, and they seem to gather round the mountains, 
which form a grand wreath around this pearl of lakes. 
The wind dies quite away, the sun scorches my weather- 
beaten face, and it is trying to the eyes when the sparkling 
gold of the sunbeams falls straight upon them. Their 
blinding light makes it difficult to distinguish our goal, 
but I hold the compass in my hand. The waves sink and 
become more languid, and the sea is again smooth as 
glass. Now we move more slowly, for the wind no longer 
pushes behind, but the men are unwearied; their boat- 
song dies away over the water, awaking no echo. The 
hills of the eastern shore show no perceptible difference 
in size between one sounding-point and the next. I ^it 
dreaming, the rhythmical song and the splashing of the 
oars exercising a soporific effect. I seem to hear the 
tramp of a horse which bears a rider in silver harness over 
the granite mountains of the Trans-Himalaya through 
an unknown land, and in the dream I perceive that the 
features of the rider are my own. Then I am sad, for the 
dream is false. I have ' certainly crossed the Trans- 

T r. ^^ 1.,. *!,.. — ».«««^^ 1mi# fU,. ro^cf i rriT^ofto nf n^r* of 





' I 

[^ ' 


the exploration has not been accomplished. That I have 
(lone my utmost in dealinf^ both with the Tibetans and the 
Chinese' to i^ain access to the country north of the Tsangpo 
is no consolation to me. If one can storm the op.posing 
bulwark of Xaturc, one should be able to overcome the 
obstinacy of man. Up yonder in the north, behind Kailas, 
the Trans-Himalaya extends its granite ramparts, and I 
must go there though it cost me my life. I must go there, 
if I clothe myself in the rags of a mendicant lama and beg 
my way from one black tent to another. 

But we are litill on the holy lake ; it is a day of rest and 
a summer's day. I feel the skin of my face cracked by 
the burning of the sun. The hours crawl so slowly over the 
lake; patience, patience. The clouds display wonderful 
tone-effects; white and grey, shari)ly defined, they lie in 
different stages before the mountains, and behind them 
dark blue and purple curtawis seem to hang ( ^vn. We 
might be gliding over the bright floor of a temple hall, 
its walls richly decorated with flags and standards, which 
hang down from golden hooks on the ceiling of the sky, 
and touch the dust of earth with their fringes. The 
genii of Siva's paradise seem to hover round us. Now 
Shukkur Ali has taken to a new cry: "Ya aferin adett," to 
which he adds "Ya, Allah," as he lifts his oar, and Rc- 
him Ali chimes in with "Shup[)." The depth still remains 
about 1 80 feet. To the S(juth-cast curious clouds are 
reflected in the lake, and a mist seems to be creeping over 
the water. All the tones are so light, airy, and grey that 
the landscape, which surrounds us like a ring where the 
water ends, seems hardly real. The twin summits of 
Fundi on the north-east are dark and solemn, and equally 
dark and solemn is the mirror of the lake. Silver Ix'ads 
drop from the oars and glitter like diamonds in the sun. 
I could live and die on this heavenly lake without ever 
growing weary of the wonderful spectacle always present- 
ing fresh surprises. 

Meanwhile a light south-easterly breeze disturbs again 
all the reflexions. The valleys Pachen and Pachung open 
their doors wider ancl wider, and allow us to see deeper 
into the recesses of the mountain. \\c recognize the hills 




above camp Xo. 212, 1)ut the tents arc not visible. But 
we see a white spot on tile northern shore whicli we take 
for a j^om|)a. The depth is somewluit over igy feet; " Va 
bismillali liuni!" is Shukkur AH's .■xelamation. At the 
>i\teeiuh jjoint the (lei)tli has aj^ain deereased, the south- 
easterly breeze has ceased, and the lake is a^^ain a sheet of 
},da>s. Xow the tents can Ix; seen as tiny sjjccks, and we 
hope to com[)lete tliis line also without a storm. A long, 
low, smooth swell of closely following waves, like the wake 
of a distant steamer, comes to meet us. How has it l)een 
])rfKluced, since the lake is (juite peaceful? Perhaps by a 
slight convulsion of the earth's crust, which has disturbed 
the shore. The undulations on this round lake are very 
peculiar. At point Xo. 20 the depth is only 128 feet, and 
ncjw we have not far to go. 

Crack ! Shukkur All's oar broke oiT in the middle with 
a bang, and the boat dre'>' rapidly away from the blade 
end, which had to Ix" pi>_..L'd up. The good man was so 
dumbfounded and bewildered that he stammered, "That 
does not matter," and went on rowing with the shaft in 
the air. Xow, wlien the tents were so near, he had 
developed too much strength. "It is well that the old 
man does not Imrst himself,'' I thought. We tied the 
jiarts together with a j)iece of string. There was a stir 
on the shore when we landed. The waiting men showed 
by word and gesture how glad they were to have us back 
again after giving way to all kinds of dismal foreb(xlings 
cbout our sad fate. Just as they caught sight of the boat 
out on the lake, Rolx'rt was alwut to ^^end out patrols up 
and down the shore. All was well in the camp, e.\-cept 
that the Tibetans were troubled Ix'cause their provisions 
were at an end. I gave them money to buy tsuiuba at the 
monastery. In the evening I discussed with Rol)ert a 
plan of rowing southwards to investigate the lake bit by 
bit. We bought a plank and two staves in Serolung, and 
on the first leisure day Shukkur Ali cut out with an a.xe 
two excellent oars, after a pattern I had cut for him from 
the lid (jf a cigarette box. 

(Jn the next dav, the anniversarv of mv arrival in 


a new nioMtri 











' ( 

• <*l 

It. ' 


■ f 

diary 'the first." I wonder what the new month holds in 
its lap -new discoveries or new disappointments.-' But 
I hope alwavs, anrl l)elieve that all will come rif^'ht at last. 
Raljsanj^ and 'I'lnidui) Sonam rowed, and Roljert steered 
alonj^ the three leet line about 55 yards from the land, 
while I sat in the bow, compass in hand, and drew a map 
of the shore-line, the hills and valleys, and all the details 
that are characteristic of a lake. Charles A. Sherrinf:; states 
in his book on western Tibet that Mr. Drummond, 
Commissioner of Bareilly, sailed in 1855 in a boat on 
Manasarowar, but no result ha.> come to my knowledge ; 
on the contrary, I find that the very latest map of the 
lake needs a thoroUL!;h correction. Soundings had never 
been taken before, and the object of my luxiting expedi- 
tions was to collect material for a detailed isobathic map. 
When we left behind us the basin of the Brahmaputra at 
the pass Tamlung, I had already suspected that Mana- 
sarowar was a member of the hydrographic system of the 
Sutlej, and I wished to try if I coukl not make a contribu- 
tion towards the solution of this problem. I knew that 
my investigations couUl only be ina<lequate, but they 
yielded a number of facts hitherto unknown. Among 
these are the svstematic sounding of the lx>d, by means of 
which conclusions mav be drawn as to the origin and 
formation of tlie lake.' I soon convinced myself that the 
lake depression had been excavated by okl glaciers from 
the southern mountains, as I at first conjectured, and was 
not dammed uj) bv moraine walls across the broad valley. 
But want of si)ac'e forbids me to enter fully into a dis- 
cussion of this interesting question. 

We glide in a flat curve to the south-west, and have to 
increase our distance from the shore that we may not run 
aground on the sandy bottom. The water at this season 
of the year has a fairly constant temperature of aljout 50°. 
Then we approach the mouth of the Tage-tsangpo. For 
about two-thirds of a mile the river flows parallel to the 
shore of the lake, Ijeing separated from it by an embank- 
ment 13 feet high, which has been cast up by the waves 
.,„.i ,u\ .-,.-,...:.>.•.. of thi- {re Hero wp encamued among 

ami 1:1'- ['•^ ^ ' " ' 

ilrift^and am 

bushes, and measured the Tage-tsangpo. 



Its breadth was 56.8 feet, its maximum depth 3.4 feet, and 
its (li>ch;irgc 397.6 cubic feet a second, or 106 cubic feet 
more than where we last gauged it above the Xa-marden 
affluent I have alreadv related how we first came in 
contact with this river at the pass Tam-lung-la; its source 
stream, the Gang-lung-chu, or "water of the ice- valley, 
comes from the Gang-lung mountain in the south, and so 
there is a glacier or "ice valley" in this mountain which 
is the origin of the Tage-tsangpo. It is seen from the 
Tarn-lung 'la. and is the glacier which I venture to call the 
Sutlej's genetic source or the real original sor-ce. \\c 
shall return to this attractive problem. _ 

From everv camp on the lake Robert rowed out with 
two men at right angles to the beach, sounding the depth 
every five minutes. Bv means of these radiating lines we 
discovered the saucer-shaped form of the lake, for, as T 
have alreadv remarked, the lake lx)ttom is on the whole 
very even. "Xow, from camp No. 215, Robert rowed out to 
a depth of 'eet. 

On Au^ 2 we continued our boating excursion, 

while the 'caravan marched along the shore. All went 
excellentlv well, we heard not a word of any officials m 
pursuit o'f us, and the Tiljctans placed yaks and mules at 
our disposal with the greatest willingness. A couple of 
showers fell, loud thunder rolled in Gi:rla Mandatta, and 
a violent south-westerly breeze forced us to come to a 
halt and wait at a place on the shore where the brook 
fn^m th.e Xima-pendi valley debouches, forming a delta 
within a broken mole. Fish arc plentiful in the brook, 
but here also the Tibetans asked us not to catch them, 
and we respected their wishes — only stupid and uncouth 
men wound the religious feelings of others. By this brook 
the lake receives a tribute of 49-4 cubic feet per second, 
while the Richung-chu entering farther to the wcst-scjuth- 
west contributes 63.6 cubic feet. 

We {)assed Yanggo-gompa under sail at a rather short 
distance, and steered straight for Tugu-gompa, picturesquely 
situated on a strand terrace. Here l)egin the long lagoons 
^n-i -^•••' ...-.•.iv.r,i-m..nt \v.. h:\(\ seen from the western 
beach, and we were carried comfortably ashore and greeted 
VOL. n ' 






I( ' 

It { 

politely by a band of Hindus rnnsistinr; of pilgrims and 
traders. A number of Tibetan sliepherds from the north 
wiTc staviuL,' here, where a not unim])ortant wool market 
is held everv --unimer. A ,!j;roU]) of monks stocxl on the 
roof. Our (ani]) was ]iitclied close to the foot of the 
monastery, on the shore road, and had a fine view over 
the lake' and Kailas luhind it. At the southern wall of 
the convent is a yard eneloMii by a stone wall, where 500 
sheep were packed like herrin.Ljs in a barrel, to Ix- sli</rn 
in turn by Hindus and Botia> who come from Almora 
and the border country in the soul'i. The nomads receive 
eitzht annas (M.) for every slieep, good interest on their 
live capital. Tiie wool from 500 sheep is said to amount 
to 16 yak loads (lUustratifjn 249). 

We j)aid at once a visit to the monastery, where the 
thirteen monks and their abbot, Tabga Rinchen, received 
us with the greatest kindness and politeness, showed us 
everything, and eX|)lained to us the various temjile halls. 
They had hiard of my voyages on the lake, and had now 
seen with their own eyes my boat sailing before a favour- 
able wind, and they expressed their sincere conviction 
that I must possess occult powers to defy v.-ith impunity 
the god of the holy lake. But they understood that this 
was owing to my friendship with the Tashi Lama, 
who had given me his holy blessing. The monastery 
Tugu-gompa is a dependency of Shibeling-gompa in Purang, 
and most of tlie monks come from there to spend three 
years on the lake. They own herds in Chang-tang, 
trade, and seem to be in good circumstances; at any rate, 
thev help the poor j^ilgrims who have nothing to cat 
on ' their wanderings round Tso-mavang. They receive 
gifts from well to-do pilgrims. The temple halls are 
picturescjue, handsome and in very good order. You 
enter from an ui)pcr balcony into an outer hall with 
wall paintings, among which is a picture of Tso-mavang 
with the fish-god, Mado Oemo, rising from the waves 
(Illustration 250). He has seven water snakes in his hair, 
and the lowtr ])art of his body is like a green dolphin. 
The lake is as deep as it is broad, and conceiiliic ri^l,^.-, 
encircle the rising god. The abbot said that the fish- 




> r/y-^i> 



1 -/ V 






' I 

, lS 





goii romcs up to f^rix't the <,'i)(I of Tso-mavan,!:?, Illabscn 
l)i)rilu' Harva, who gallops in a cloud of j^ri'v fiery tongues 
and smoke on a pink horse, ami is armed with spear, Ih)w 
and (|uiver. In the hackj^round stands Kanj,' rinpoehe, 
the holy mountain. The whole jjieture is wantinj.'; in 
])ersi)ettive and proportion, hut it is curious and interest- 
ini,'. and the Lamaist artist has done his Ust to idealize 
the holy lake by his drawint; and colourinj^. I made a 
copy of this work of art, which has some relationship with 
our old country ])aintin},'s. 

From the entrance hall a small door «,'ives access to 
the holiest shrine in all Tugu-f^ompa, namely, the hall 
of tlu' lake god. He is represented only as a mask, 
surrounded by kiidakhs, and seems to ])eep out from 
between curtains. A coui)le of llames burn l)efore him and 
the usual bowls are placed on a stool table. No man 
but the mcjnks themselves may enter this little alcove, but 
I obtained permission to sit on the threshold and draw a 
sketch of it (Illustrati(jn 251). I regarded this unknown 
niabsen Dorche Barva almost with reverence, for he ruled 
over my Ix'loved lake and had been so gracious to me. 

Hut the finest sight of all was the view from the 
monastery roof. The highest parts of Gurla Mandatta, 
here called Mama-nani or Mamo-nani, were concealed by 
the lower Hanks, for we were too near to it, but the 
surface of the lake stretched out northwards to an 
immense distance. A lama, who had served at seveial 
different times in the convent, asserted that the lake rose 
24 to 28 inches in rainy summers, and declared that 
eighteen years before the water had reached to the foot 
of the red facade of the monastery. This seemed im- 
proljable, for the distance between the lake and the 
monastery was 323 feet, and the foot of the convent 
facade (the right corner looking from the strand) lay 
20.67 feet abiive the level of the lake. I (juote these 
figures to enable a future explorer to determine whether 
the lake has risen or fallen since August 2, 1907. 

I passed the next days in the monastery, sketched the 
lamas at their various temple services, and fell in love 
with this pleasant, handsome lugugompa. Punso Lama, 




• t 


a youn^ monk, was my i>arti(ular frit-nd, and showed me 
everything,' with the in'exhau>tibk' knouiid^c of a trained 
mu>eum attendant. Three olTieials of the I)eva>hung had 
estahhshed them>elves in the entrance hall in the company of 
the four ghostly kin^s, and mattresses, bundles, tables, swords 
and <^uns lav or sto<jd in j)rofane disorder at the entrance 
to the dwelling of the hij,'h gods (Illustrations 252. 253. 257). 

Meanwhile Robert rowtd out from the southern shore, 
and sounded the depths down to the contour of 207 feet. 
On .\ugust 5, we paid a visit to Vanggo-gomj)a, which 
contains ten monks and a nun. They told me that^ they 
came from the I lor country in the north of central Tilx.'t, 
and therefore call themselves Hor|)a, but also Dokpa; 
the Changi)a are the nomads of Chang-tang. The abl)<)t 
is from Sekiya gompa. In the monastery's iiuukiUii^, a 
dark subterranean crypt, hang masks, kudnkhs, drums, 
sjjcars and guns. I asked for what purpose the monks 
wanted the firearms, as one of their fundamental dogmas 
forbids them to extinguish the light <«f life, and they 
answered that with these guns many wild yaks had been 
killed, whose flesh had been used for human food, and 
that therefore the guns had been installed in a place of 
honour in the monastery. Vamba T.^ering, a monk 
twenty-iwo years old. sat with his head against a wooden 
pillar' and gazed in silence at the dim light which fell 
into the crypt through an impluvium; he looked like a 
dreamer, a' searcher after hidden truth. Beside him sat 
the wrinkled nun. Both found their way into my sketch- 
])ook (Illustrations 258. 259). The foot of the monastery 
facade lies exactly 14 J feet above the level of the lake, and 
the river Richen-chu, entering the lake behind the convent, 
discharges 62.13 cubic feet of water (Illustration 256). 

Vanggo-gompa was the third of the eight monasteries 
of the holy lake which I had visited, and 1 wished to sec 
them all without exception. And I also wished to gauge 
all the streams falling into the lake. It fluctuates from 
day to day, according as there is rain or sunshine, but 
only by exact measurements could I arrive at the volume 
whi'ch is pourcJ into the clear h:i<in of Tso-mavang during 
a dav of summer. 



On August 6 \vc stayed at TuRU-gompa, one of the most 
interesting monasteries I have seen in Tibet. I was 
engaged all day long, with Robert and Rabs;ing to assist 
me, in measuring with a tape the dimensions of the three 
storeys, and drawing plans of them. The third, however, 
is little more than a roof balcony. I have no space to 
give the results here. As we were on the rooi, eight 
monks were sitting in the inner court counting their 
receipts, which were duly entered in a cash-book. Their 
rui)ces and tiiiiias lay in heaps on a short-legged table. 
I gave a handful of rupees, throwing them among the 
piles, and disturbing the calculations of the monks. 
However, they were very thankful for this unexpected 
contril)Ution, which seemed to fall from heaven. 

About thirty Hindu pilgrims set up their .shabby tents 
near us. In the evening they lighted a fire on a flat metal 
dish, which was pushed out on to the water, and shone like 
a beac(jn fire by the bank. This floating pyre was meant 
as a homage to the lake. 

On August 7 I was awakened early when the sun was 
pouring fresh gold over the blue lake, and a lama on the 
convent roof was blowing long-drawn heavy notes from 
his shell horn over the surface. I hastened to the shore 
where the boat lay ready w^ith its usual equipment. 
Shukkur Ali and Tunduj) Sonam put the sounding-line 
in order and stowed our baggage. The Hindus lined 
the twnk like the wild-geese, left their clothing on land, 
and waded, with only a cloth round their loins, to bathe in 


' i 





tlif lioly iHatifyin-^ water nf the lake. It must ho very 
rffnsliin^ to |)C()|il(.' from tlic ( Iom' jiinf^ks of India to 


in siu 

a (ool morning in wa 

tiT at onlv a few 

(U'j,'rits above free/in^ |)oint. Mo-t of them, however, 
j;o in no farther than up to their knees. Tluri' they 
s(|uat (i')wn. or sioop uji the water in their joini'd hands, 
and throw it over them. They make syml)oliial >-i^niN. 
fill their moutii with water and send it out in a stream, 
hold their hmds llat a^'ainst their faics and look at the 
rising sun, and perform all kinds of al)surd. (om]ili(ated 
man' 'Ulations, which I remi'mher .seein<^ at the •^'liats of 




sunljurnt, thin and miserahie, and 

thev are too thinly elad I did not see a sin},'le sheepskin 
— and they complain of the >everity of the c limate. cat( h 





to mv tent for medicine. Some stood 

about an hour in tlu' water before they returned to the 
beach to put on their ilothinj,', and then they sat in 
groups talking. Hut they return to the valleys of India 
convinced that they havi' performed an action well- 
pleasing to the gods, and they take with them small 
metal bottles filled with holy water from Manasarowar 
to give to t'ieir relations. They believe that one of the 
wavs of salvation runs j)ast Manasarowar. They arc 
always hopeful, and that is a fine thing for poor pilgrims 
on the face of the earth. 

They stared with astonishment at our boat, which was 
driven out from the shore by powerful strokes, perhaps 
with envious eves, for manv asked me aft vards to let 

them go w 

ith me, that thev might for the rest of their 

lives look back to the time when they floated on the 
sacred waves. I'hc lake lay .smooth and still, but at the 
first .sounding-station (115 feet), the lake god .sho(jk him- 


a nortn-wes 


bree/v sprang up, and the waves 
s|)laslie(l and danced briskly our bow, for our 
third tine of soundings was carried north, 27° \V., towards 
camp Xo. J 14. We sounded 174, 207, 226, 2;,6. 2;/), 246, 






waves increa.sed 


1 the boat 

rode well but with diminished speed, (lurla Mandatta was clear, but Kaiias was burieci in clouds, i'iie wind 
fell and the sun glowed, and everything foretold a fine 


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day. At the ninth point tlie (le[)th was less. 246 feet ; 
\vc had passed the line of soundings made in the night 
and its great depths. Afterwards the depths were 22^, 
197, 187. IQ4, and 200 feet. 

The north-westerly Ijreeze ])egan to blow again, and at 
mid-day clouds gathered in the north. .V heavy bluish- 
grey layer of elouds sjink d(jwn slowly on the mountain 
tlanks, and from its under side rain fringes hung down, 
greyish-purple on a compact clark background. All the 
mountains and the whole .strand disai)peared, and the 
masses of cloud seemed as though they would fall on the 
lake. We ])assed the fifteenth station, which .showed a 
depth of 200 feet, and kept a .stearly course towards the 
red promontory. The rowers put forth all their strength 
when I had pointed out to them that we were drawing 
near to the .shelter of the bank, and that the waves were 
becoming smaller the farther we advanced. We had left 
Gossul-gompa a good distance to the left ; I could not .see 
the monastery myself, but the men .saw it as a small white 
speck in the distance. 

Just before one o'clock yellow swirls of rlust and sand 
appeared near the landspit which we were making for. 
They became denser ami larger, and looked yellow and 
dismal on the dark purple background of gathering clouds. 
It was not the first time I had seen such storm warnings. 

"We are in for a storm," I said quietly. 

" God is with us." replied Shukkur Ali quite as calmly. 

"Row on and we shall get in before the waves are 

"If we turn straight to the shoie, it will be nearer," 
.suggested Shukkur Ali. 

"Xo, we will not alter the course, we will make .straight 
for our goal, and we .shall soon be in the .shelter of the 
hills on the shore; there are only three soundings to be 
taken, and they can be left for another time." 

The wind fell again, and it began to rain in a fev.- large 
drops, which on reaching the surface of the water remained 
an instant as .separate round beads, as though they were 
!"!!V('rofl with :! fihr! of oil. rb.en fo!!i>wcd -iin extremclv 
heavy shower of hail which lashed the water as it .streamed 




• I 


down, enveloped us in scmi-darkncss, caused the lake to 
leap up in millions of tiny fountains, and in two minutes 
made the inside of the boat white. Nothing was visible 
but ourselves and the boat, only water and hail, which 
scourged the lake like rods and produced a hissing gurgle. 
Now and then the clouds were lighted up by (|uivering 
lightning, and the thunder growler! heavily and threaten- 
ingly in the north. Then the men turned round, but 
could .see nothing in the mist; they were and 
we all felt that there was danger ahead. 

The hail was followed by pelting rain, a downpour of 
such furious impetuosity that I could not imagine any 
more tremendous. It fell in such quantities and wiih .such 
force that we were bowed down by it. I had on three 
shirts and a leather vest, but after a short time I felt 
that the water was streaming down my bare skin, 
which had this advantage that all the future douches that 
awaited us could make no further im])ression. I had my 
fur coat on my knees with the skin .side up, and in all its 
hollows the water collected in small pools. A (luantity 
of water fell into the boat and washed about with the 
stroke of the oars. The shore was not visible, and I 
steered by the comjjass. 

"Row on, we have not much farther to go." 
\t length the '■ain became finer, but at four ' 'nutcs 
after one o'clock, we heard a deafening roar in the 
north-east, a sound such as only a storm of the greatest 
violence can produce. Hail and rain wire nothing to it; 
now that the heavy sheets of water were withdrawn the 
storm had a free and .swept suddenly and furi(;usly 
over the lake. Why had we not .started an hour earlier, 
instead of watching the religious ablutions of the Hindus? 
.\'o, the god of Tso-mavang was angry and would teach 

us once for all not to treat so lightly the lake which 
splashes his dolphi.i's tail with its green water. How 
we envied the monks in Gossul-gompa, and our men 
d(,ivn in the south under the peaceful walls o^ the Tugu 
m )nastery ! What would they say, what would they (lo, 
it we were drowned like ca.ts in this riu'in!'' lake? 

For a minute we struggled irantically to keep our 




course in spite of the waves which swept upon us from 
the right. They swelled up with astonishing rajtidity, 
and every wave which dashed against the taut canvas 
of the boat and dissolved into spi v, made a cracking 
sound as though the little vessel .verc about to burst. 
The ne.xt was still larger; I warded it otT with my Indian 
helmet, and Tundup Scmam received a cold bullet which 
disconcerted him for a moment. After the third, which 
threw its foaming crest over the gunwale, the water stood 
4 inches deep in the boat, the little nutshell with the 
weight of three men lay far too deep in the water, and the 
water we had shipped gurgled, lapped, and spla.shed hither 
and thither with the 1 roll of the boat. 

Now I perceived that the attemjjt to hold our course 
was hopeless. We must fall off with the wind and waves. 
We had Gossul-gompa to the south, 50° W.. and the_ storm 
was from the north-east; we could iind refuge in the 
monasterv, if we could get so far. The dilTiculty was to 
turn at right angles without capsizing. Twice I failed, 
and we shi])ped more water, but the third time I suc- 
ceeded, and now, if we ha<l any care for our lives, we 
must prevent the boat from veering up into the wind; 
the storm came a little from the right. Tundup Sonam, 
who rowed the starboard oar in the Ijow, had all the work, 
while Shukkur Ali had only to dip in his oar occasionally 
at mv command, but though outwardly calm he was too 
excited and eager, and when my voice could not be heard 
amid the howling of the storm, 1 put my hand on his 
knuckles to make him leave the oar alone. 

Now began a vovage such as I had never experienced 
in all mv V'^rnevs 'in Tibet. The storm increased to a 
hurricane,' and u'nder its pressure the waves became as 
high as the billows of the Baltic in stormy weather; a 
steamer would have rolled in such a sea, and we in the 
little canvas boat had to negotiate the unexpected cross 
rolls following one another. Lashed, hunted, and per- 
secuted by the raging force of the wind, we swept over 
the lake. Every new wave that lifted us up seemed 

Digger man tuc la=i. s^m^ "^■•■■- -i.-.-i- ■••'•' a i 

as though moulded out of mountain crystal, and reflected 





the (lark 


ini,L;ht at anv iiiDinfiit 

It sccmrd as thoui^'h a 

rollirii^ U]) foam (apprd, i is^in^ ami thundering,' 

clouds in the' north. 
watiTv <.,'r;ivi' yawned in front of us which 
wallow uj) our hoat. Others came 
, , ,, thundering,' behind '.is, 

and we shuddered at the tiiou.^ht that ihev mi,L;ht fill the 
boat in an in>tant and ^md it to thi' bottom, but it 
bravely owr the c re'^ts. The virw wa-^ o])en on all sides, 
the sun was \i>ible in the south, (Jurla .Mandatta was clear 
and sharp, to the south, 50° W., even the ternice on which 
Gossul },'ompa stands could be seen, and it was black and 
threatenint,' (jnly in the iKjrth. Durin,!,' the second whrn 
the l)oat was b lanced ([uiverinL,' on the cre>t of the, 
we mi.^'ht fantv ourselves transplanted to a loft_\ pass in 
Chang tanj; with a world of mountain raiiLjes all round us, 
while the foam of the wavrs had an illu>ive resemblance 
to the fielfls of eternal snow. 

But this wave als(j passes on md the boat sinks into a 
hollow, We fall into a water ii;rotto, the nearest waves 
conceal the view, the walls of the .grotto are of the ])urest 
malachiti' behind us and like emerald in front. Xow we 
are lifted u\) iv^iun — "At it. Tundup Sonam, or the hut,'c 
foaming crest will thrust us down!"— he ;)Uts forth all his 
strength and the wave passes us. It is irregular and 
reminds us of the i)yrami(lal summit of Kubi-gangri ; 
two such crests tower up in front of us, and their edges 
are shattered into s]iray by the wind. They are as trans- 
parent as glass, and through one of them the image of 
Gurla Mandatta's bright white snowfields is refracted as 
in a magnifying glass. We have a watery portal in front 
of us and the tips of the waves are gilded with the faint 
rellexion of the sun in the south. 

We struggle bravely and T sit on the bottom of the 
boat pushing the rudder with all my strength to keep 
the l)oat in the right direction, while the spray, lashed by the 
wind, spurts over us as from a firediose. Freciuently a 
broken crest slips over the gunwale, Init we have not a 
hand free to 1)ale out the water. We see the boat ("illing 
slowlv — shall we reach the bank before it sinks? The 


-•;! !i,- 

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reserve oars ticn last across inc 

... . v.»» .... .-*,.. t-.y.. »\..^,_1 » ,_ Vytlj .-J LH-II Itl.^L «IV 1 ^ /:^.^ liil^ 

middle of the boat. If we could set a sail the boat would 




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be easier to handle, but it is not to be thou,<,'ht of now, 
when we can hardly kec]. our halanrc >ittinj^ down and 
stiffening ourselves with our feet, with the heavy blows 
ancl the unexpected positions the boat assumes according? 
to the form of the waves, their slopes, curves and curls. 
And, besides, in such a storm the mast would break like 

We had turnerl at right angles to our line of soundings, 
for now we thought only of saving our lives, if that were 
possible — to reach the land before tl., boat sank. Then, 
in the most critical moment, when an irregular wave 
threatened the boat. I called on Tundup Sonam to put 
forth all his strength, and he did it too well, so that the 
oar broke with a crack. Xow all hung by a hair, we 
could not manage the boat, and it must inevitably 
ca[)sizc and be swamped under this foaming crest. But 
Tundup Sonam realized the danger, and with a quick 
grasp tore loose a reserve o;'r, while Shukkur Ali backed 
with the leeward oar; after another douche we trimmed 
the boat again. 

The longer the storm lasts and the larger the expanse 
of lake left behind us in the north-east, the higher rise 
the waves; we are swept forwards, we rock u[) anfl down 
on the lumpy lake, and fresh cold douches are constantly 
poured over us from the crests as they split into spray like 
plumes of feathers. How small and helpless we feel in the 
presence of these roused infuriated forces of Nature, how 
imposing and awful, and yet how grand and splendid is 
this spectacle! The two men had never in their lives 
seen anything to equal it. I sit with my back to the 
pursuing billows, but the men have them before their 
faces, and T know when large wa\-es arc api)roaching by 
their muttered "Ya Allah!" Tundup is as pale as he 
can be with a sun-tanned skin; Shukkur Ali seems com- 
ywsed, but he does not sing to-day as he dips in his oar. 
Tundup afterwards confided to me that he was ([ulte con- 
vinced that we should i)erish. 

It is impossible to keep my eyeglasses dry anfi citar, 
and I have not for a long time had a dry thread on me. 
Shukkur Ali turns round and says that the monastery is in 





:-\ '< 


seems to 
drizzling rain, 

sight, l)ut it is too far for my eyes. "Look at the wave 
yonder." I call out. " I^ it 'not" Ix-autiful?" He smiles 
and murmurs his "Va AllaJ! " Its crest breaks close to 
us like a waterfall, and, air being forced into the 
it rises again in bubljjing foam and the lake 
tioil and seethe. Hitherto there has Ix-en ' ' 
but now the air is clear. The lake assumes a different 
hue, the waves are dark and bright, close to us black as 
ink, l)ut lighter towards their tips, and the horizon of the 
lake is often seen tiirough the ne.\t wave as through a 
sheet of ice. 

Thus we are driven on. and the time seems endless. 
For five quarters of an hour we have striven with the 
freaks of the lake gcxl, and every minute has seemed to 
us an hour. .\t last the monastery (iossul ai)pears and 
grows larger, the details becoming distinguishable, and I 
see the white facade with its upper border of red, its 
windows and roof streanurs. and some monks behind a 
balustrade with their eyes fi.xed on the boat. And btdow 
the cloister terrace there is wild foaming surf. How we 
are to land I cannot imagine ; I have e.xperienced such 
adventures Ix-forc, but never anything as furious as to-dav. 
We envy the monks up above with firm ground under 
their feet, and should like to Ix' beside them. The log 
has been out all the time, and now I draw it in with "a 
quick pull and call out to the men to k- ready to jump 
overboard when I give the sign. I j)lace the note-book 
and the map I have sketched to-day, all dripping with 
water, into the front of my leather vest, that at any rate 
I may not lose the figures I have obtained. 

V.'e have only a few minutes more. With the help of 
Shukkur Ali I manage to get out of my heavy soaked 
boots, and have scarcely done so when the' boat i's pitched 
violently into the breakers on the shore. Here the water 
is as l)rown as oatmeal, and the undertow sucks out the 
boat again. Xow Tundup Sonam wishes to jump out of 
the l)oat, but I ad\-isc him to try first with the oar if he 
can reach the bottom; he feels no ground and has to wait 
patiently. The boat receives a bk)w from l)ehind and 
threatens to capsize; the oarsmen work as if they were 

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possessed to fight against the undertow, and Ixfore I am 
aware Tundup has jumped out, and, up to hi> breast in 
water, <lraws the Ixjat shorewards with all his nilL^ht. 
Now we two follow his e.\am|)le, and with our united 
strength succeetl at last in drawing the Ixnit up the heaeh 
Ix'fore the raging surf ean dash i» to pieces. One more 
hard pull and we have drawn it up over the mud embank 
ment into the lagoon, which the waves cannot reach. 

Now we had had enough, and we threw ourselves 
down on the sand, quite tired out. 'J'he fearful excite- 
ment and tension of Ixxly and mind during an hour and 
a half was followed by stupor and weariness; we had 
nothing to say to one another, and I gave no orders for 
the night. \Ve were shipwrecked men, and had every 
reason to be pleased and thankful that we had tkm ground 
under our feet again, and had escaped safely from the 
green graves which had yawned below us, threatening to 
engulf us if we had not been on the alert in critical 

We had only dozed a few minutes when two monks 
and three young novices came gently over the sand and 
approached us cautiously, as if they were not quite certain 
whether wc were alive or dead. When we got up they 
greetal us kindly, and inquired how we were and whether 
we needed help. They were deeply interested, and told 
us how they had seen from their balcony the lx)at tossing 
on the waves, and had been convinced that it must founder 
in the unusually violent storm that had swept over the 
lake. They had Ixen frightened to death, and said that 
it was fearful to see the boat sink in the trough of the 
waves, and every moment they expected that it would not 
appear agai;i. On landing \,e were immediately below 
them, and the sight was too terrible. Were we hurt at 
all, and would we come up into the monastery and spend 
the night in their warm rooms? But I thanked them for 
their kind offers and preferred to sleep as usual in the 
open air. If they could get us fuel and food we should be 
much obliged. 

They bowed and disappeared in their maze of stair- 
cases, and presently came back with sacks full of dung, 




< f 



bru>Iiuoo.l. an.l l-ill- 1>. ;in.l xm.ii a ^'nunl fire was burnin- 
„n tlu- trrra(i'. 'Huv kitvlK.l it tin nix lu-, f<.r our 
mal(lu^ an-l tiii'lir w.iv <iuil.' umK-. Ilun lluv wi nt 
• iff I.) I'.tdi -Minr calaM.-, lor tlic .'.lUnit- ..t mir pat kil 
,,1" i.inviMoii-^ Win- tuninl IiUm pa-lc I)y thr watir. 

M.aiiwhiU' wr inatlr (.ur^L-lw- (omfortahlc on llir 

IkIow the nioiia--tt.ry. 'l"\\o lar;,'c 
lirraii', lluir vaults Maik with 

narrow -tri|i ot ^routnl 
{av(> o|n.iH(l into tlu 
smoki f(.r pilu'rim. an.l lunlMinii -pciKl the ni^ht in thim. 
Thiy ■ <'ul.l haw ^iK-ltcrid u> from the wind, l.ut tlu y 
wrt' -" <lirtv that we iinfcrnd to pitdi our lanip at thr 
f(l«c of llu''lxink. it ua> \Mt with rain, hut wc >craiH(l 
out «lry -and with our han<l>. Thr boat wa> taken to 
pieces an.l eni!.li..l it wa> half full of water -an.l then 
it was --et U|) liv tlu- tire as a screen. 

When the fire luid burned uji and was <;l.)winf,' hot, 
we -lrii.i)e.l ourselves stark nake.l, wrunj,' out one K-'mient 
after another, and eroiuhe.l !)y the lire to .Iry our un.ler- 
dothini^ and ourselvi's. Kadi ha.l to look alter hiniHlf, 
for wi" were all in the >anie pli.uht. 1 si>read out my 
thin<5s as near as posMble to the lire and hun^' them over 
the ")ars an.l lifed.u.)ys t.) exjxoe them to the wind and 
heat. Meanwhile I .'irie.l my wo.)llen vest bit by bit. 
turne.l it inside out, held it to the fire .m this and 
that, out an.l inside, an.l when it was .(uite dry put it .m 
aj^ain Then came the turn of my unmentionables, then 
o? my stoekinl,^s, an.l so .»n. N.ithin^ be done with 
the leather waiste.)at an.l the fur oat; they w.aild be 
dry tiy ni;4ht, but what .li.l it matter? It was at any rate 
better' here than in the crystal halls of the lake kin^'. 

It is still br.)a.l day'li^'ht, luit the storm raj,'es. (iura 
Mandatta an.l all the c.'aintry t.) the .south has .lisaj)i)yared, 
the ^ale is i)assing olT in that direction. There is fine 
Falcons .scream in the holes .)f the 


cl.ise ram agam 

peljhly sl.jpes 

dangerous nei<'hb.jurs for the bluish-grey 

pii;e(>ns oomg on the rocks. 

"'Fhe monks came d.)wn again with sweet and sour 
niilk and ts,imha, tea we ha.l ourselves, and the .simple 
dinner tasted delicious. Then we .sit a oujtle of h.)urs 
by the fire while the storm continued. I dried my diary 




.111(1 inttrtil tlu' iiotf^ uliitli form llu' i(intiiit> <it' llii> 
« lui|)ti'r. lUtwnn uliili-, Shukkiir AM inttrt.iiiit d nif 
with .^torits of lii> ;nl\(.iiliircs diiriiii,' hi-^ Ir.uiU in ttif 
MTvin' (if V()un^'luiNli.iii<l and Willliv. XOu that lu' liad 
t'>.(.a|)i(l di'alli Ia' tlic >kin of lii> Iitlli. the [i.i'-t icturnid 
more vividly lo lii> hk iiinry, and uiaii ( ik r ln' \\a^ 
starti'd on lii> rrminix cmo he muld iinl he >ti)|>iicd, 
pxxl old Shukkur Ali. 1 li>l(.'ii((l with < tx' (ar and uroti' 
with thf oilur 1 had almost sai'I not to apjuar 
iinintiTistid ; and, at'tir all, tlu' chiil" tliinL,' to Shukkur 
Ali wa> that he iduld prattle. 

At la-t the nortlurn >ky Ik (onus (liar, and all the 
mountains an- white with snow; before (Hily and 
its next neij^hhours were di^tinj^'uished \>y while (.ips, luit 
now all is white. We 're eerlairdy |'a>l the tarly d.iys 
of AuL^'uM. but is it |>o>sible that autumn i-. alre.idy be}.,'in- 
niiiL,'.-' The >ummir has Iieen so short we have 
liardlv had time to ^,'el a(eu--tomed to it. 

Another ni.^ht falls on the earth. Impenetrable dark- 
ni'ss surrounds us, and only in the zdiith a few st.irs 
sparkle. The .swell still roars aj^ainst the .strand, but 
Tso-mavang is j^ently fallin.t,' asleep. Above us towers 
the mona.stery on its stee|) wall like a fortress, and the 
monks have retired to rest. The falcons are iieard no 
more, and the pigeons have .sought their nests. 


V I 


V \ 





In the middle of the night I was awaked by a terrible ro v; 
a dog from the monastery had crept under my men's half 
of the boat to see what it could find, but chanced to fall 
into the hands of Shukkur Ali, and got a gcxxl thrashing. 
The temperature fell to 37.4°. Rabsang came riding up 
at sunrise. The men had feared that we must have 
perished in the waves. He brought provisions and a 
packet of letters from Thakur Jai Chand, the British 
commercial agent in Gartok, who was at the time in 
Gyanima, where the fair was being held. He wrote that 
Colonel Dunlop Smith had directed him on June 27 
to try to obtain news of me. GufTaru had performed 
his task satisfactorily, and all my baggage was safely 
deposited in Gartok, and my voluminous correspondence 
had been forwarded to Simla From Mr. Sherring, v.ho 
had made a journey to Manasarowar .some years previously, 
I received a very kind letter; he had also had the kindness 
to send me his interesting book on western Tibet, while 
his wife had added a whole packet of English and French 
newspapers, literature the more acceptable that the 
extensive library presented to me by O'Connor had 
long been read through and dispersed to the four winds of 
heaven. It was a singular that where I had 
suffered .shipwreck I was .so unexpectedly brought again 
into contact with the outer world. 

i was deeply moved by Rabsang's information that the 
monks in Tugii-gompa, when they saw the storm burst 
over our frail boat, had burnt incense before the images 







of the god and implored him to deliver us from the 
lake-waves. They had done it of their own accord, and not 
at the request of any one. They said it would be deplor- 
able if we were lost; they had a heart, and ',vcre not so 
unfeeling as might be supposed. Few proofs of sympathy 
have touched me like this. 

Accompanied by Rabsang, 1 ascended in the early 
morning the winding path up to the monastery. At the 
turnt and projections stand cubical chhortcns and votive 
cairns, and here and there a streamer flutters on a mast. 
A sa.nkanf^, a hermit's dwelling, hangs over a cavern 
produced by the fall of a huge mass from the slope of 
the pcbblf terrace eleven years ago. I told the monks 
that they should not put too much confidence in the 
ground on which their monastery stands. They reckon 
millions of years for the soul's wanderings, but their 
earthly dwellings are not built for eternity. They 
answered calmly that the monastery had already stood for 
one hundred years, and that it would certainly stand as 
long as they were living there; for in general the monks are 
changed every three years, and they come here from the 
monastery Shibeiing in Purang, by which they are main- 
tained. There are only three of them, but I saw also 
four novices, seven, nine, ten, and eleven years old 
respectively, running about as actively as mice, and 
v.-aiting on the monks. Their mother, a nun from Purang, 
also lives in the monastery. She had been married befo'c 
she "took the veil," and when her husband died slv^ 
dedicated herself and all her children to the Church.^ 1 
afterwards learned that one of the "boys" was_ a girl; 
they were so like one another that I could not distinguish 
between them. At first they were shy and limid, but 
after I had given them a few silver coins they were soon 
at ease with me. They appeared small and stunted for 
their age, but the abbott told me that they had mourned 
so much at the death of their father that their growth was 
checked. Almost all the day they were bringing water 
from the lake in clay jugs, which they carried in a basket 
suspended by a strap round their forehead; they carry 
therefore with the muscles of the head and neck, which 









" I 

► 1' 


I f 

arc consequently so much developed that they seem too 
large for the body. But they also recei\ instruction and 
take their first uncertain steps in the domain of wisdom; 
the eldest is said to have already acquired considerable 

I went into the temiilc and studied it thoroughly. I 
remained there twelve hours, drew, took measuiements, 
made all kinrls of inquiries, and took notes. Every part 
is handsome, interesting, and well kept. The lhahan<^ is 
like an old ;irmoury, a museum of fine, rare articles, which 
show great artistic skill, and have been designed, carved, 
modelled, and painted with unwearied patience and real 
taste. The hall, supported by eight jiillars, has two red 
divans; a statue of Huddha in gilded bronze, and a number 
of other idols; drums hanging in stands, lacquered tables 
with the usual religious objects, and a large quantity of 
votive bowls in the brightest brass and of uncommon, 
tasteful forms. On both sides of the pillars hang tankas 
in four rows, which are as long as standards and triumphal 
banners, and are so arranged that they do not prevent the 
light from playing on the faces of the gods. In a corner 
surely waves a Swedish flag? Ah, it is only a blue and 
yellow taiika, but it reminds me of the golden period of 
our fame and victories. 

The Ihakang of Gossul is not built on the u.sual plan ; 
the skylight is wanting, and instead there arc three 
windows in the facade facing the lake. Rut the gods do 
not see the lake, for the windows are pasted over with 
paper on a trellis-work of laths. Why is the beautiful 
view concealed and the daylight excluded? To enhance 
the mystical gloom within and excite the greater wonder 
and reverence in the minds of the {)ilgnms who come in 
half-blinded from the daylight, and that they may not see 
that the gold is only gildecl brass, and that the marks of 
the brush and the chisel may not be too profanely evident. 
The ])oorer a monastery, the darker are its temple halls; 
the darkness hides their poverty and helps the monks to 
imj)ose on the faithful. 

Somch.unL' is ih.e n-'ime of a sm.;i!l conin;\rtm.ent no 
larger than a cabin. On its divan are cushions and 






t'l ;- 




h r 





pieces of cloth arranged in circles to form two nests, in 
which two monks sit during the night service. On the 
altar table before Sakya-muni's image stand forty bowls 
filled with water, and on another table somt' peacock's 
feathers in a silver vase, with which the gods are sprinkled 
with holy water to the cry "Om a hum." 

In former times robbers and foot-pads harboured here, 
and had their hiding-places in the caves below the monas- 
tery. From these they fell upon the pilgrims and killed 
many of them. Then" the god of Tso-mavang apjjeared 
to Jimpa Xgurbu, a noble lama, and ordered him to build 
the monastery, that it might be a sure stronghold for the 
l)rotection of' pilgrims, and for the honour of the gods. 
Even now the country is not safe. Last year two 
scoundrels, who had plundered the nomads, were taken 
and executed, and we our.sclves saw ten Gurkhas, armed 
with guns, who rode past us in search of a rubber band 
which had stolen their uid sheep. 

The monks said that the lake usually freezes in January ; 
in stormy weather the ice breaks up, but when the weather 
is calm and the frost is sharp, the whole lake free/.es over 
in a single dav, and breaks up again in a single day when 
it is stormy.' Unfortunately the statements made about 
the level of' the water and the discharge are contradictory 
and untrustworthy. A lama, thirty-five years of age, now 
staying here, had lived on Tso-mavang as a child. He 
said that he well remembered the time when the water 
iaowcd out of the lake to Rakas-tal in such riuantiUes that 
a horseman could not cross the channel, which is called 
Ganga, without danger. But now this channel had ceased 
to carry water for nine years. I was shown where the 
shore line ran last autumn, five fathoms farther inland, 
so that the lake must then have been 22}, inches higher. 
I was also shown a yellow block of stone, to which the 
water was sjiid to have reached twelve years ago, and this 
point lay loi feet above the present level of the lake. 
Such a rate of fall is improbable, though this statement 
accorded fairly well with the information I had received at 
Tugu-gompa. ' The threshold of the one cave lay now 
22.57 feet, and that of the other 120.4 ft-ct from the 






shore, 18.86 feet above the water. I was told that when 
the monastery was built, one hundred years ago, the lake 
had reached Ixjth these caves, and that only a small path 
was left along the strand by which the caves could be 
approached. However, the dates of the I'ilx'tans arc 
exceedingly uncertain, and to arrive at safe conclusions 
we must resort to the statements of Kuroj)ean travellers. 
I will make a few remarks on them later. When I asked 
one of the monks what Ix^came of all the water poured 
into Tso-mavang by all the rivers and brooks, he replied : 

"However much it rains, and though all the tributaries 
arc full to overflowing, no change is noticeable in the lake, 
for as much water is evaporated as flows in. In our holy 
books it is written that if all the triljutaries failed, the lake 
would not sink and disappear, for it is eternal and is the 
abode of high gods. But now we see with our own eyes 
that it is always falling, and we do not know what this 

The following records may be useful to future explorers: 
the lower edge of the massive threshold of the main gate- 
way in the facade of Gossul-gomjja lay on August 8, 1907, 
exactly 122.7 feet above the surface of the lake, as I 
ascertained by the help of a reflecting level. 

We ascended to the roof of Gossul-gompa. It is flat, 
as usual, with a chimney, parapet, and streamers. No 
language on earth contains words forcible enough to de- 
scribe the view from it over the lake. It was, indeed, much 
the same as we had seen from various points on the shore, 
but the light and shade was so enchanting and the colour- 
ing so wonderful that I was amazed, and felt my heart beat 
more strongly than usual as I stepped out of the dark 
temple halls on to the open platform. Tundup Sonam 
said in his simple way that the lake with its encircling 
mountains seemed like the sky with its light clouds. I, 
too, was the victim of an illusion which almost made me 
catch at the parapet for support. I wondered whether it 
was a lit of giddiness. I took, to wit, the border of 
mountains on the eastern shore for a Ixlt of light clouds, 
and the surface of the sea for part of the sky. The day 
was perfectly calm and the lake like a mirror, in which the 



! i 


2;S A Dkt WIFR. I,\\!\ l\ \' \Nr,(;()-r;ii\l|. \ (IS M \N \S\R(P\\ \R. 

Drawn l.\- T. M.n I' Imm ,i Ski-t( li In tin- Autli >r. 


n !> 








sky was reflected; both looked exactly the same, and were 
of the same colour, and the mountains, which in con- 
sequence of the distance were all blended into a dark 
shadow, were like a f^irdle of clouds. The air was not 
clear, everythini? was of a dull sulxlued tone, there was 
no colour to speak of, but all was grey — sky, land, and 
water, with a tin<;c of blue, .: fairy scene of glass, with 
decorations of white gauze seen through a thin blue veil 
of incense rising from the altar of the mighty god of the 

What has become of the earth, if all is sky and clouds? 
We are not totally bewitched, for we are standing on the 
roof of the monastery leaning against the parapet. A 
dream-picture in the most ethereal transitory tones floats 
Iwforc us. Wc seem to stand on a promontory jutting 
out into endless space, which yawns around us and in 
front. And where is now the holy lake, which yesterday 
nearly roblml us of life, and on which the storm was so 
fur-ious that I still seem to feel the ground quaking under 
my feet? Has the Gossul monastery been changed by 
some whim of the go<ls into an air-ship which is bear- 
ing us away to another planet? Its streamers hang 
mi)tionless on their poles, and nothing can be seen of 
the mountains, country, and ground. 

"(Jh yes, if you lean a little over the parapet," says 
a monk, smiling! True! Then the illusion vanishes, to 
my great chagrin. I should have liked to remain awhile 
under its enchantment. Just Ix'Iow us runs the narrow 
margin on the bank, with its black dam of clay and water- 
weeds, and its elongated lagoons. Through the crj'Stal 
clear water we sec the yellowish-grey mud on the lake 
bottom, the dark fringe of weeds, and the dark depths 
beyond. It is like a huge aquarium covered with plate- 
glass. Two flocks of geese are swimming on the water, 
producing diverging ripples. All is so indescribably quiet; 
so ethereal, transparent, and transitory, so subtile and 
sensitive, that I scarcely dare breathe. Never has a 
church service, a wedding march, a hymn of victory, or 
a funeral made a more powerful impression on me. 

Did fate compel me to pass my life in a monastery in 








' I 




Tibet, I would without lusitation choose Gossul-RoraiKi. 
'rhrre I wouM ohsirvc the llu(tu;itions of the hike and the 
auiuuil curves of the temperature. I \voul<l sit up there 
hke a watehinan. i^aze over the hike, and watch how it> 
aspect chan;,'ed every hour duriiiL,' the twelve months of 
the year. I would listen to the howling ol the autumn 
storms, and would notice on calm XovemlxT days how ihi- 
belt of i( e aloni,' the >hore broadened from day t(j day, if 
only to melt aj^^ain in the course of a day. The rini,' of i(e 
would creej) on ever nearer to the middle of the lake, Ik- 
(listrovi'd attain and a,t;ain by new gales, and then lx\t,'in 
a,i;ain to enchain the waters. Ami at length, on a day in 
January, when the 'avers of water were cooled through and 
through and no wind disturbed the air, I should -ee the 
g(jil of Tso mavang stretch a ringing roof of glass .er his 
green palace, and the winter storms bestrew it with white 
powder and drive the whirling snow in dense clouds over 
the ice, with its smooth, dark-green surface jieeping out 
here and there. And on calm days the lake would lie a 
white plain, lifeless and lonely under its white shroud, and 
I should sit by the bier of my friend longing for the sj)ring. 
In vain would the first storms of spring contend with the 
solidity of t!ie ice and its l)rave resistance, but at last the 
sun would come to help the wind, and would make the ice 
brittle and rotten. Leads and fissures would start up in 
all directions, and the ne.xt storm that swept over the ice 
would overcome all resistance, flinging about the ice blocks 
and jiiling them up one on another, driving them to the 
shore, and sweeping breakers over them so that they 
would be crushed, si)lintered, pulverized, and melted in 
the rolling surf. Then I should rejoice at the victory of 
the storm, the rilease of Tso-mavang and its restoration to 
life, and would listen to the song of the waves and the 
screaming of the wihl-gcesc. 

Perhaps an hour such as I spent at the parapet of 
(jossuI comes c)nly once a year. The elTect is the result 
of a certain temperature, a certain j)erceniage of humidity, 
calm air, preceded )w rain and a north-easti rly storm. 
How seldom are all these conditions fulfilled? At most 
once a year, and just at this hour, this hour of all hours, I 

^' ill 


•V,ff-- -•-:iVO'^ 

"St^I ■-} 


zyi. Tuh '•:.:; Xl-. :-; V^■■ ■>.• ^>-ji'\. 
Skcti h l)v tlie Author. 

~MBiyy«j?s«»i»r.ys=siiagmi jp. ^it»a-^*- .-r--*-5=y.a 

H' I 

K! (if 






st()(Kl on the roof and saw the hluc- lake at rest after its 

Wonderful, attractive, enchanting lake I 'I'lume of 
story and le,^'end, playj^'round of >torms and chan^-ies of 
( nloiir, ap])le of tile v\\- of ^^ixls and men, goal of weary, 
viarniiiL^ pilgrims, holiot of the hoiie>t of all the lakt-, of 
the world, art thoii, Tm) niavanj^. lake of all laki>>. Nawl 
of old .\>ia, wliire four of the nii)>t fanioiN river> of tlu' 
world, the l)rahnia]<>..ira, the Indu>, the Sutlej. and the 
(iant^es, ri^i' among gigantic peak-, >inroun(k(l liy a world 
of mountains, among which i> Kailas. the nio>t famou> in 
the world; for it is sat red in the eyes of hundreds of 
millions of Hindus, and i> the centre of a wreath of 
monasteries where every morning blasts of conches sound 
out from the roofs over the lake. Axle and hu!) of 
the wheel, which is an image of life, and round which the 
pilgrims wander along the way of salvation towards the 
land of perfection. That is Manasarowar, the pearl of all 
the lakes of the world. Iloary with age whin the l)oc)ks 
of the Veda were written, its blue billows have in the 
course of centuries seen innumerable troops of faithful 
Hindus and Tibetans arrive at its banks, there to drink, 
bathe, and fuid rest for their souls. There are certainly 
more beautiful lakes in the world. Its western neighbour, 
for instance, Langak-tso, is more pictures(|ue. Hut there 
is none which unites with natural beauty such an influence 
on the faith and souls of men. That is why the roar of 
its waves is so attractive, and a sojourn on its shore so 
fascinating. Standing up on the convent roof, while 
silence reigns around, one fancies one hears innumerable 
wanderers apprcjaching, and the echo c;f their stumbling 
feet on the holy path around the lake. And one casts a 
glance into the night of past centuries, which have left no 
trace of their as])irations and vain search after an imaginary 
Ijlessedncss. But Tso-mavang remains the same as it was 
then, and its azure-blue eye sees new generations treading 
in the footsteps of the old. 

After such an hour evervthing else seems commonplace. 
Not till the blush of evening tlocjded the lake with a purple 
tinge could I tear myself away and go down to my camp 






I. ''I 

i'» 1' 





on the shore Once more I turned to Tso-mavang arid 
callal <.ut a ioud ,)r<,l.)ngecl "'Om a hum." Rabsang said 
noth n, but 1 couM see that he was won, ering whether 
ha ! b^com" the latest convert of the Lamaistic church, and 
ulh the riore reason Ix-cause I had insisted on travelhng 
ound the lake in the orthodox direction -southwards by 
the east bank and northwards by the wes bank. 

The tracks of 120 yaks were discermble '" th^/^"f' 
which had passed northwards in the morning laden with 
b k tai An old Hindu, who was performing the circui 
o the 1 ke in the same direction as the Tibetans, lagged 
t ^alil've,! to camp beside u. l.cause he -^^^^^^ 
robbers; we regaled him with tea bread, and U)bacco and 
1.0 n^k.. 1 us to accept a handful of rice. It is singular inai 
hV ; u .il rS: Ice,. .0 h„l>: 'h» Lan;ais.icm.,nas.c„es 

witn us in i"^ iv,ll.,st But he fo owed us on the 

fnWp no unnecessar\ oaiiasi. ""»■ >"- , 

W- ns ;< rowe<r through the surf to camp No. 213, 

XnoftuTn Ck m '!;■''.%.?".> Vl. n,i,M.c. He was 
certi a little silly; he ba.l take.l nonsense all the 
evenbg. though no one had listenej to h.m. 

Th'„ew|ne "l^:"";:^ ^^Tt^' A. *e 
Sh°otl -station ^hf ™l Jetal -Use of the currcnt- 
rL Vca.£en.n«,„. in .K |«-^ 

rm^^^raUons' dowTlroV the crystal clear water to 

11 ^ 
— f 












i'> 1' 

1 1 



a depth of 207 feet, there to sleep in the mud of Tso- 
mayang till the day of judgment. Fortunately it could 
easily be replaced. 

When we landed at the monastery, all our men, and 
the monks and the pilgrims on the shore, were there to 
receive us. The first we caught sight of was the old, 
crazy Hindu. His fellow-countrymen had taken it for 
granted that we must have perished in the storm, and 
therefore were very astonished to see us come back alive. 
But as I was now here again, they thought that they might 
take advantage of it, and asked me to present them one 
and all with new trousers, a request that I considered 
very importunate. 

On August 10 I sat in my tent door and painted 
Kailas in different lights. Its white summit stood out cold and 
bare against a bright blue cloudless sky, and the lake was 
of a deep, dazzling ultra-marine. When a breeze swept over 
the surface it was in the distance like clear green malachite. 
After sunset the sky was orange-coloured, and the lake, of just 
the same colour, reflected the outlines of the mountains in 
quivering serpentine lines. The evening before the whole 
western horizon had glowed with bright red flames. 



I! I • 


, r 




At this time RoIktI had jxTfcctcd liimsclf more than I in 
the Tibetan language, and he talked it almost _ fluently. 
Theref(jre, while my whole time was taken up with other 
work, he was able to obtain information about the country 
and peoi)le, and perform certain tasks I set him. On the 
left, shorter wall of the vestibule of Tugu-gompa was an 
inscription for the enlii;htenment of i)ilgrims, and this 
Rdljert now translated into Hindustani c-d English. 
Freely rendered it runs as follows: 

Tso-mavang is the holiest place in the world. In its centre 
dwells a god in human form, who inhabits a tent composed of 
turquoise and all kinds of i)rccious stones. In the midst of it 
grows a tree with , thousand branches, and every branch contains 
a thousand cells in which a thousand lamas live. The lake tree 
has a double crown, one rising like a sunshade and shading Kang- 
rinpoche, the other overshadowing the whole world. E^^ch of the 
102 2 branches bears an image of a god, and all these images turn 
their faces towards Gossul-gompn, and in former times al; the gods 
gathered together here. Once golden water was fetched from the 
lake, and wUh it the face of HUibun Rinpoche in Chiu-gompa was 
gilded, and what was left was used to gild the temple roofs of 
Tashi-lunpo. In old times the water of the lake flowed over a 
pass named Pakchu-la to the Ganga-chimbo. Water flows into 
the lake from all sides, cold, warm, hot, and cool. Water passes 
from the lake to the Ganga-shei and comes back again. \'apour 
rises annually from the lake and hovers over it once in the year, 
and then sinks down into the centre, and the next year theprocess 
is repeated. It any one brings up tiay ironi the middle oi the iaKC, 
that clav is really gold. The lake is the property of the lake-god. 
The lake is the central point of the whole world. Sambu Tashi 





grew out of the lake tree. Sochim Pema Dabge is of very holy, 
clear, and pure water. The Gyai,ar Shilki chhorten stands in the 
lake. The palace of the lakc-goil is in the lake. .Ml the lamas 
there recite their prayers with one voice. All the pods assemble 
together in the lake and sit there among chlwrtens of all kinds, 
embellished with gold and precious stones. The spirit king of the 
southern land resides here in a golden house, and is not angry 
when any one comes to wash and purify himself. If we pray to the 
spirit king of the southern land, we shall be very- wealthy and 
fortunate. Four large rivers and four small flow out of the lake by 
underground channels. The four large ones are one warm, one 
cold, one hot, and one cool. (Tlie Karnali, Brahmaputra, Indus, 
and Sutlej.) If any one washes in the lake, he is cleansed from sin 
and all im[)urities. If .Tiy one washes once in the lake, the sins of 
his forefathers are f' vcn, and their s'luls are relieved from 
purgatorial fires. Da^ .ng Xgacha came with 500 pilgrims from 
Kang-rinpoche to wash in the lake. Lo Mato Gyamo met him 
and begged him to come to Tso-mavang. Datping Xgacha and 
the pilgrims came with heaps of flowers and strewed them in the 
lake. Datping Ngacha went three times round the lake and then 
ascended into heaven. 


Of particular interest ' the .suggestion made here 
that the four large rivers stream out of Tso-mavang by 
subterranean pa.s.sages. As regards the Sutlej this belief 
is, in my opinion, quite correct. I was told that the fifth 
Tashi Lama, mausoleum we had seen in Tashi- 
lunpo, once made the pilgrimage to and 
went down to the shore at Tugu-gompa to offer a kadakh 
to the lake-god. The ka'hkh remained sus{)ended in the 
air, that is, it was actually hanging on one of the branches 
of the holy tree, but as the tree is only visible to Rlnpoches 
and genuine incarnations, the kadakh seemed to ordinary 
mortals to hang alone in the air. 

On August 1 1 wc bade a long farewell to the amiable 
monks of Tugu-gompa, and gave them liberal presents. 
They accompanied us down to the shore, when we put off 
vjn our voyage westwards. Into a large lagoon of the 
shore, brown and dirty owing to the numerous gulls and 
wild geese which here wallow in the mud, a brook from 
(iurla Mandatta runs, and now discharges 37.8 cubic feet of 
water in a second. All the way along runs a 
heap, the continuation of the pebble terrace on which 





[I /I 



TuRU-gompa stands. The lake bcfl consists sometimes 
of sand, sometimes of detritus — offshoots of the detritus 
cone of C.urla Mandatta. Large collections of weeds form 
dark patches. Up above, at the mouths of two valleys of 
Gurla, are seen foaming streams, and it is .strange that 
they do not debouch into the lake. But the explanation 
is easy. Twenty to fifty yards from the bank numerous 
small 'holes in the sand of the lake bed open and close 
like the valves of an artery, and the .surface of the lake 
above them bubbles. These are springs. The streams dis- 
appear in the detritus cone, and the water runs below over 
impermeal)le layers of glacial clay. At the edge of the 
cone the water comes up again under the surface of the 
lake. I perceived, then, that I must gauge the_ rivers at 
the points where they emerge from the mountain valleys, 
if I would ascertain the exact amount of the tribute Tso- 
mavang receives. 

Near camp 218, quite to the .shore, a .spring came 
to the .surface, and where it welled up it had a temperature 
of 38.1°, and therefore brought down the cold of the 
glaciers to the lake. As the melted water of the Gurla 
glaciers retains its low temperature on its subterranean 
course, it probably assists in keeping the water of the lake 
cool during the summer. Whole shoals of fish sported at 
the surface of the water, and snapped at plumed gnats, 
which were gathered in thick clouds. 

On August 12 I rode with Rabsang and a Tibetan up 
to the foot of Gurla Mandatta. We crossed the great 
highway between Tugu-gompa and Purang. A wolf took 
to flight; occasionally a hare leapt up out of the steppe 
grass, and locusts flew about noisily. We rode into the 
mouth of the Namreldi valley, a resort of robbers, and its 
crystal stream, between walls of solid rock, carried loi 
cubic feet of water, as compared to the 37.8 cubic feet at the 
place where it enters the lake. The rest of the water, 
therefore, pours into the lake under the detritus. A few 
miles farther west we halted at the mouth of the Selung- 
urdu valley, which has a glacier in its upper part. At 
half-past nine o'clock the bed was dry, but at half-past 
one a river with rapids and waterfalls poured down a 

,t '. 


volume of 63.9 cubic feet of exceedingly muddy water, 
which reached the lake in the subterranean springs. The 
view from this elevated spot is magnificent. We have a 
bird's-eye view of Tso-mavang, and in the west gleams 
the bright blue Langak-tso. The survey we can here 
take of the country is very instructive. The denudation 
cones of Gurla Mandatta, consisting of sand, rubbish, and 
Ijoulders, extend northwards like inverted spoons; their 
extremities dip under the surface of the lake, and cause 
the fluctuating depths sounded on lines i and 2. From 
camp 218 Robert executed a line of .soundings at right 
angles to the bank down to a depth of 190 feet. 

Every day with its ob.servalions brought me nearer to 
the solution of the problem I had proi)()sed to myself. As 
we nxle northwards on the 13th along the western shore 
we digged wells at some places 10 yards from the bank. 
The ground consisted of alternate layers of s;ind ami clay: 
on the top sand, then a layer of decaying vegetable 
remains; then a foot and a half of sand which rested on 
clay. A pit 2 feet deep slowly filled with water up to 
the same level as the surface of the lake. The water 
permeates the sand and rests on the clay. If this layer 
of clay stretches, as seems likely, across the narrow 
isthmus to the shore of Langak-tso, it is evident that 
the water of filters through the beds of sand 
and pebbles to the western lake. I was already convinced 
that even now when the old canal has ceased to act, an 
underground connection must exist between the two lakes. 
But the fact that the water of Tso-mavang is quite sweet 
is no proof that the lake has an outlet, seeing that it is 
only a few years since the canal was silted up. 

Again we encamped below the hospitable monastery 
Go.ssul. On August 15 I rode with Rabsang and a 
Til)ctan across the hilly isthmus between the two lakes in 
order to get a look at the country on this side also. We 
ascended sharply to the highest |X)int of the ridge, where 
there is a fine view over Langak-tso with its picturesque 
rocky shores and projecting points and capes, its bays and 
islands, and its frame of steep mountains. In form it is 
very different from its neighbour, which is round and has 



-sti«* . 




I. ."( 



no islands. Wc stood at a height of 16,033 fci-t, and 
therefore were ^)^•^ feet ahove tlie surface of Manasa- 
rowar. Then we rode down a valley clothed with hrush- 
Wf)od. which emer^a's on to the Hat. irregularly curved 
shore belt. Here are old, very plainly marked, >h()re 
lines, the hi,L,'hest 67.9 feet above the level of the lake. 
When the Lan^ak-tso stood .^o hi,t,'h it had an outlet to 
the Sutlej, and the old bed of this river may be .seen 
leading' otT from the north-eastern corner of the lake. 

A strong south wind bleu, and rolled the waves to 
the shore, where I sat a j^'oikI hour, drawing and making 
observations. Then we nnle again over the i.sthmus, at 
its lov.est (15.289 feet) and broadest place. A salt .swamp, 
begirt by hills, lies on its eastern half, f|uite close to the shore 
of'^Tso-'mavang, with its surface 7.7 feet above that of 
the lake. In the sand and rubbish between the two 
arc abundant streams of water, passing from the lake to 
the swamp. The swamj) lies in a Hat hollow of day, 
in which the water evaporates, and the trilling ([uantitics 
of salt contained in the lake water accumulate. At this 
place, then, the water of the eastern lake is prevented 
from seeping through io the western. 

The following day we .sailed with a favourable wind 
to the north-western corner of Tso mavang. where Chiu- 
gompa stands on a pyramid of rock. Tliis spot, camp 
Xo. 219, was to Ix^ our headquarters for several days. 
The outline of Tso-mavang is like that of a skull seen 
from the front, and wc had now to exjjlore the very top. 
A day of rest was devoted to a preliminary investigation 
of the channel where several cold and hot springs 
up; two of the latter had temperatures of 11 7° and 122° 
respectively, while in testing the third a thermometer 
graduated up to 150° did not suffice, and the tube burst. 
A spring of 117° in a walled basin is said to be u.sed as 
a me(lic\il bath, but one must be a Tibetan to stew in 
water so hot. A small stone cabin beside it serves as 
a dressing-room. A little further down the channel _ is 
s])anncd i)y a bridge constructed of f()ur beams resting 
on two stone piers; it is in e.xlraordinariiy go(xi conaiuuii, 
and is another proof that the canal rontained water not 



so very long ago. On the piers of the bridge water 
marks are still conspicuous i8J inches above the present 
stagnant pools, smelling of sulphur and full of slimy 
weeds, which are fed by springs. Young wild-geese 
were swimming in one of them, and had great diflkulty 
in protecting themselves from the brown puppy. 

Chiu-gompa, the fifth of the eight monasteries of the 
lake which I visitetl, is small, and contains fifteen lamas 
who enter it for life, while the abbot is changed every 
three years. It owns some yaks, 500 goats, and 100 
sheep, which are employed in transporting salt to Purang, 
where the monks barter it for barley. One monk, a 
youth twenty years of age, named Tsering Tundup, is one 
of the Tibetans whom I think of with particularly kind 
and warm feeling. His mother also lived in the monastery, 
and looked after the sheep and goats when they were 
driven in the evening into the pcnfolds. He was unusually 
handsome, refined, amiable, and obliging, and showed me 
everything with full explanations. From his small bare 
cell he could dream and gaze at the holy lake in the east, 
and could see on the west Langak-tso, despised by the 
gods, but yet he was melancholy, and on that account we 
were sympathetic. He acknowledged openly that he was 
weary of the monotonous life in Chiu-gompa; every day 
was like the last, and the monks had hard work to procure 
a scanty subsistence, and must always be prepared for the 
attacks of robliers. It must be pleasanter to live as we did, 
and roam about freely among the mountains. He asked 
me if he might come with us, and I replied that I would 
willingly take him to Ladak. Then his face brightened, but 
he begged to be allowed to think over the matter until I 
returned from my next trip on the lake. 

It rained all night, and in the morning everything was 
wet — even the things in my wind-beaten and torn tent, 
where little puddles had been formed. But Tsering came 
with the linen, so I was not so badly off. We had a 
long voyage before us, to camp No. 212, the first place 
we had encamped at on the holy lake. The programme 

lac txcursiuii inhu liiLiuucu vs=ii.= i--- tii\. titi-.t. vnt-.i 
monasteries, the gauging of the volumes of water in the 

i 1 

' I 





I I 


t It 



streams from the north, and the drawing of a map of the 
northern shore. We therefore took provisions for four 
days, whiih Rahsang and A(hd were to transjjort ahjng 
the bank nn hordes' hacks. We were to meet them at 
the entrance tn the valley Serolunj,', at Serolunj; gonipa. 
This la>t voyai^e wa- to c-oniplete my investigation of 
the hike, Itut precisely because it was the last it was 
Icjoked forward to witli fear by my men. 'I'hey thought 
that I had so long defied the gcxl of the lake that now my 
time was ccjme, and that he would avenge himself and 
keep me for ever. 

But the morning was beautiful, and when at half-past 
five we rowed out over the smooth lake, the temperature 
was 48.0°. The eloud cap of Gurla e.xtended down to the 
water, and nothing could Ik- seen of the country tc ...e 
south. The Punch mcnintain was covered with snow and 
had a wintry appearance. At the hrst sounding-station 
(66 feet) the tenti were seen as white s])ecks hovering 
al)ove the lake. Chiu gompa stands prjudly on its rocky 
point, and is a landmark visible from all parts of the lake 
shore except from the west. At the second station the 
sounding was more than 1,^0 feet. Shukkur Ali and 
Tundup Sonam row like galley-slaves, for they hope to 
finish this line, and then the work will l)e at an end. Some- 
times the boat j)asses through belts of fcjam and weed. At 
the fifth station (161 feet) the tents can still Ix' seen with 
the glass, but after that they disajtpear. Gossul's memcjr- 
able monastery can also Ix,' dimly descrilx'd on its rock. 

"\ow we have traversed a third of the way," I said. 

"Thank Gcxl!" reijlied Shukkur Ali. '"I hope the 
weather will hold up to-day." 

A large fish floated on the water, belly up; fish washed 
ashore are used by the people as medicine. The depths 
remain the same; the lake bed is very even. But at the 
thirteenth point we found 108 feet, and at the fourteenth 
180 feet, which indicated a ridge in the lake lx*d or a cone 
of detritus from the foot of the northern mountains. At 
about an hour's sail from the eastern shore we saw Rabsang 
and Adui coniirig up, unci thev v.aitcd for us at tne rcnuez- 
vous. They proposed we should pass the night in a 




stone cabin at the right sMe of iho mouth of the Pt-rolung 
valley, Ijut I refused, for pilgrims and tramps ire wont to 
harlxiur there. Six monks from the convent, ol 1 friends 
of ours, paid me a visit, and four happy, laughing women, 
black and dirty, came rushing like a whirlwind the 
slo]K'S with bask' is of fuel on their backs. Pup])y had 
followed Kabsang, and had found at a monastery on the way 
a little elegant cavalier with a red collar and lx-ll<. With 
a feeling of satisfaction at having completed this iast line 
of soundings, I went to sleep on the sandy shore under the 
light of the everlasting stars. 

Next day I nxle with Rabsang 17 miles to le north, 
in order to measure the volumes of water in the Pachen 
and Pachung valleys. We arranged to meet the other.-, 
on the northern shore, whither they were to row with 
the baggage. Were we long away tiuy were to light 
a Ixacon fire on a hill for our guidan..-. We foll(«ved 
for a time the shore with its banks of mud, small pro- 
jections, and lagoons, and tlun wc nxJe through the 
Semo-tsangpo from the Tokchen val! y, and j)assed on the 
left hand two small l.'kes in the midst of rich pasturage, 
where a numlx;r of kiangs grazed, glared at us, pricked up 
their ears, and ran away in a slow gallop; then we crossed 
the tasam, or the great trunk road, and rode up the sharply 
sculptured Pachen valley, with a foaming river carrying 
69.9 cubic feet of water. Then we rode westwards, up 
and down hills, and enjoyed a new view of the holy lake 
with Gurla Mandatta in the background. The Pachung 
river carried 83.3 cubic feet of water. When our work was 
done we rode south-westwards. Wild asses were on the 
meadows;, they are nearly tame, for no one puts an end to 
life on the shores of the holy lake. Thirty mares stood 
on a mound guarded by a stallion; the sun was sinking, 
and perhaps this is how these animals prepare for the 
dangers of the night. Now and again a mare left the 
group and made a circuit about her sisters, but the stal- 
lion ran after her immediately and forced her to return 
to the^ others. This game was frequently repeated, and it 
seemed lo nie that the marcs were making sport of the 

VOL, u „ 





I •> 




\Vc ride over swampy mcaflows and small sandhills; 
nothing can Ix? seen of the lake-; we should like to hear 
its waves roaring under the south-west breeze, but new 
hills always crop up in front of us. At last wc catch sight 
of the smoke of the camp fire. Adul had caught a kiang 
foal four months old, which was ill and kept always turning 
round. The mother came to look after it in the night, 
but gave it up for lost, and it died soon after. 

August 20 was s[)ent in surveying a map of a part of 
the northern shore which is very slightly curved, and in a 
sounding excursion on tlie lake out to a depth of 154 feet. 
While the surface water had a temperature 55.6° every- 
where, with an air temperature aljout constant, the tem- 
perature at the l^cjttom sank from 56.1'' to 46° at the depth 
of 154 feet. 

\Ve gradually Ugan to suffer want. The collops 
which Adul tried to pass off on mc on the morning of 
the 2ist were decidedly bad, and therefore landccl in 
Pup{)y's stomach. As Kabsang anu I rode northwards to 
Fundi gompa, the temperature was 56° and really too warm, 
so that a shower of rain was not unpleasant. Fundi lies 
on a rocky ledge in a -avine; its ablx)t is eighty years 
old, and has eight monks under him. One was a China- 
man from Fekin, who had lived forty years in the convent 
and had Ix-come a thorough Tibetan, though he had not 
forgotten his mother tongue. From there, too, there is a 
splendid view over the lake. As we were about to ride 
down to camp No. 222 on the shore, a messenger 
came from Rolx.Tt with the news that the authorities in 
Farka had refused to provide us with transport animals 
or assist us in any way, for they had never heard that 
we were permitte<l to sjx;nd a whole month on the lake. 
He also said that our Ladakis were much frightened 
by all kinds of stories of robbers which were c irrent in 
the neighbourhood, so that every one was anxious for my 

The camp was quite close to the monastery Langbo- 
nan, at the mouth of the Gyuma-chu. After we had 
measured this river and ascertained that it disiliarged 
73.8 cubic feet of water, wc had tracked up all the waters 





< 1 








pouring into Manasarowar on the surfr ~e, and we found 
that the whole volume was 1094.8 cubi it in a second, or 
94,590,000 cubic feet in twenty-four rs, which would 

make a cube measuring nearly 456 . each way. But 
how much water flows to the lake by uiul'-rground passages 
whi. .1 we could not measure ? Probably a volume con- 
siderably in excess of the surface water; for Manasarowar 
lies in a trough between huge mountains which are con- 
stantly feeding the subterranean springs. At any rate the 
surplus water, so far as it is not lost by cvai)oration, 
filtrates through subterranean passages to the Langak-tso, 
which lies lower. 

On the 22nd wc again rowed straight out from the 
bank into the lake till we reached a place where the depth 
was 135 feet, and then sailed back with a favourable wind 
to the starting-point. It was the last time that I sank 
my lead in the holy water, and I was quite convinced that 
I should never do it again, for I had now 138 soundings, 
evenly distributed over the lake and affording ample 
material for the construction of an isobathic map. It was 
comical to hear Shukkur Ali when I remarked to him that 
this was our last voyage on Tso-mavang. He held his 
hands before his face as if he were about to pray, and said 
solemnly that in sjute of all dangers "we had had the good 
fortune to bring our work to a successful conclusion by the 
favour of Allah, the favour of the Sahib, the favour of the 
papa and the mamma of the Sahib, and the favour of all his 
relations." I ventured to remark that he had forgotten 
the favour of the lake-god, but he dismissed the suggestion 
with a wave of the hand, and said he had no more faith in 
the god. 

Afterwards I roc]e with Rabsang up to the monastery 
Langbo-nan, while the others went on to Chiu-gompa. I 
shall omit here a description of this convent, where the 
most remarkable sight wls the twelve-year-old abbot, 
Tsering, an intelligent, frank, and lively boy, with sharp 
bright eyes, white teeth, a fresh healthy complexion, and 
an attractive appearance (Illustration 262). He sat on a 
divan before a kcquered table in his library, called tsemchiing, 
and showed a great interest in all my plans, glanced into my 







sketch -Ixjok, tried my field-f^lass, and asked me for a couple of 
pencils. During the hour I spent in his cell we k-camc 
^'()(m1 friends, and when at len-^th I hade him farewell we 
little thouf^ht that we should meet again only a year later. 
.\s we made the round of the monastery we came in 
the gallery of the court upon a poor fellow who lay ill and 
seemed t( bo suffermg. I asked him how he was, and he 
told me that on .August 18. the day when Rabsang and 
Adul came to meet us, he \wis taking eleven mules and 
two horses laden witli tsamha and barley to Parka, the 
Clova of which was the owner cjf the caravan. Where the 
Pachung river entirs the eastern lagoon he was attacked 
at eleven o'clock in the morning by twelve robUrs, who 
rushed <lown from the direction of the Pachung valley. 
They were all mounted, and armed with guns, swords, and 
s])eaVs, iiad tw(j spare hor.-es for provisions, and wore masks 
on their faces. 'I'liey dismounted in a moment, threw a 
mantle over his head', tied his hands behind his back, and 
cleared him out, taking among other things 400 ruj)ees, 
and then they rode off again to tlie Pachung valley, which 
Rab>ang and I had hurriedly visited the next day. He 
then summoned help by shouting, and in a very pitiable 
condition found refuge in Langlxj-nan. He showed us 
some deep stabs in his legs, his skin coat, and the saddle, 
which had suffered sevi n ly when he made a desperate 
attempt to defend himself.' This was the incident which 
had so alarmed our Ladakis. 

The way from here to Chiu-gomi)a is charming. Per- 
pendicular, sometimes overhanging rocks of green and red 
schist fall to the shore, which here has a shingly beach only 
20 yards broad. Two gigantic Ijoulders stand like monu- 
ments on the shore, and on the rocky walls we see black 
caves and hermits' dva-llings, and we often pass the usual 
three .stones on which tea-kettles of jnlgrims have boiled. 
Farther to the west the projections form a series of recesses 
in lighter tones; at one of these clitTs a new and fascinating 
view is displayed. A water mark l>ing 5J feet alcove the 
present level of the lake is very easily recogni/.ed. On the 
• ickv ])innacles eagles sit motionless as statues, watcliing 
for prey. 



1 65 

Chcrgip-gompa is built on a terrace in the broad mouth of a 
valley. It is a small, poor monastery, but it has its lliakani^ 
anfl its vestibule with a large bronze bell, in which the six 
holy characters are ca?t. When the bell Is rung at morn- 
ing and evening the unfathomable truth is l)orne on the 
waves of sound over the lake, which, with its blue surface 
and its background of the snow fields of (iurla Mandatta, 
forms a charming landscape as seen from the court of the 
monastery. But its sound is heard by no <jne but Cheigip's 
.single monk. Poor man, what must be his feelings in 
winter evenings when storms sweep the drifting snow 
over the ice of Tso-mavang ! 

I remained with him fully two hours, for he had much 
to tell. He had travelled far, had been at Seli[)uk and the 
Nganglaring, and ofTered to conduct me thence in 
twenty days to the Dangra-yum-tso ; he had no suspicion 
that I was roaming about in the forbidden land under a 
political ban. But he revived my desire to visit the great 
unknown country to the north of the holy river. I was 
full of thoughts, full of plans, and full of an insatiable 
dcsidcrium ii!cof;nili which never left me in peace, when 
at length I departed from the eighth and last monastery 
of as the evening .spread its dark veil over 
the lake I had con(|Uered. 

We had still a long w;y to go to the camp. At the 
last mountain .spur stands a rlihorlcn, from which our fire 
was visible. Soon we sat again among our companions. 
LiUe at night two horsemen hkIc past our camp; the 
watchman called out, "Who's there?" but they made no 
an.swer. Then Rab.s;ing awoke and thoughtlessly .sent a 
bullet after the unknown men, being convinced that they 
were robbers. My men had reached .sucn a pitch of 
nervousness that they saw robbers everywhere. 

This was (;ur night on the shore of 'he 
poche, the "holy lake," and I listened sadly to the song of 
the surf dying away as the wind fell. 



^-wmM ■ mf'^^^mwm 

I , 

h <f'' 


"I ! 



I HAVE not interrupted the description of my life on the 
revered hike with notices of our poHtical troubles. SuHicc 
it to say that we succeeded in staying there a whole 
month. Mounted and other messengers often came to 
make complaints, and then my men simply replied: Ihe 
Sahil) is out on the lake, catch him if you can; he is a 
friend of the lake god, and can .stay as long as he hkes 
among the branches of the holy tree." And when I came 
back again they had gone off. In consequence of the 
boat trips they could not control my movements, but when 
we encamped by Chiu-gompa they became more energetic 
During my ab.sence came messenger after messenger with 
orders that I must at once betake myself to Parka and 
continue mv journey thence to Ladak. On August 23 
I sent RobJrt and Rabs;ing to Parka to make terms with 
the authorities, but they would not under any circum- 
stances allow me to visit Langak-tso, my next stage. 
If I liked to stav a month or a year at Chiu-gompa it 
was nothing to them, for the monastery was not in their 
district, but the western lake was in their jurisdiction. 
They advised that I should come as .soon as possible to 
Parka for my owti siikc, and would send in the morning 
fifteen yaks to carry my luggage. 

But I wished to see Langak-tso at any cost, bo when 
the fifteen yaks arrived next morning, I quickly made up 
mv mind to send Tsering, Rabsang, anil four men with 
the bag'Mg to Parka, while Robert and the other six 
men would go with me to Langak-tso. Our own six 




2t>^. Tl MPI K \l^-.ll^ IN (Mil i.'iMI'S. 

2''\. Tuci (nil PKi \ IN ^iiii,\i>,K. 

Ski Ic 111 > \<\ Ihr Aullr.r. 

V ! 







horses and the last mule from Poonch could easily carry 
the boat and our bit of lugg'KC- The yaks were laden 
and my men dis;ippeared behind the hills. My own small 
caravan had orders to camp on the shore of Langak-tso 
where the old channel enters. I went with Robert and 
two men on foot and executed a series of exact levellings 
over the isthmus separating the two lakes. At the same 
time I drew a map of the course of the channel. The 
measuring tape was nailed fast to an oar which Robert 
carried; tiie theodolite I carried myself. The distance 
between the pole and the instrument amounted to 55 
yards, and was measured with tapes by our two assistants. 
The pole was placed on an iron dish that it might not 
sink into the soft ground. 

The lakes were visited in 181 2 by Moorcroft, who 
found no connecting channel. In October 1846 Henry 
Strachey found there an arm of the lake 100 feet broad 
and 3 feet deep. Landor declared that any connection 
was inconceivable, for, according to him, the isthmus 
was 300 feet high at its lowest part. Ryder found 
in the late autumn of 1904 no water running out of 
Manasarowar, but he heard from the natives that a 
little water passed through the channel during the rainy 
season. Shcrring also saw no running water, but he 
thought it probable that the lake overflowed after rainy 
summers. As for me, I followed the bed of the channel 
from one lake to the other and found that in the year 1907 
no water flowed from the eastern into the western lake, 
and in 1908 the condition was the same, though both my 
visits occurred in the rainy season. There must be very 
heavy falls of rain lx?fore Manasarov/ar can overflow, for 
the highest point of the channel bed lies more than 6^ feet 
alxjve the level of the eastern lake. 

The circumstance that dilTercnt travellers in different 
years have given difi"crent accounts is, however, very 
easily explained. All depends on the precipitation: if 
it is abundant, the surface of Manasarowar rises; if it 
is very ubundant, its water drains off to the Langak-tso 
(Rakast tal). If the summer is dry, as in the year 1907, 
the Langak-tso receives no water through the channel, 

■ m 

! J 






li t 

l)Ut (rrtainly !)>• sul)tiTr;incan passaj^'cs. On the whole, 
hotli ihrM' lakes art- falling' like the other lakes of Tihct, 
and the time is ajjproai hint^ uiien tlie subterranean outlet 
will he ( ul oU and hoth lakes will he salt. 

As we dtliherately measured the (hannel and came 
to its hi,i,'hest point from wliii h its bed dips towards 
the west, 1 thnw a farewell ulanee at Tso-mavanK, and 
e\i)erii-nii'd i fi'elin.L; of bereavement at the though that 
I must now leave its shores, and in all probability for 
ever. l''or I hail known this t^'em of lakes in the li^'ht 
of the mornini,' red and in the purple of sunset, in storms, 
in howlini^ hurricanes when the waves rose mountain 
hi,t;h. in fresh southerly bree/.es when the waves .sparkled 
like emeralds, in full sunshine when the lake was .smooth 
as a mirror, in the .silver beams of the moon when the 
mountains stood out like while .spectres after the dull 
yellow li,t,'ht of evenini,' was txtinj^'uished, and in jjcaceful 
nights when the stars twinkled as clearly on the smooth 
surface of thi' lake as above in the vault of heaven. I 
had pas>ed a memorable month of my life on this lake, and 
had made f'-iends with the waves and become intimately 
aciiuainted with its depths. To this day I can hear the 
melcKlious splash of tin' raj^inj,' surf, and still Tso-mavani^ 
linf^ers in my memory like a fairy tale, a le<,'end, a sonj^. 

We went on westwards alonj.; narrow creeks and j)ools 
of sta>^iant water, but when the evenin.tjj had become so 
dusky that I could no Ioniser read the fii^'urcs on the 
measuring,' i)()le, we f,'ave up work, marked the last fi.xed 
point, and made for the camp, which we reached in 
complete <Iarkness. 

In the morning the work was continued. We had 
had a minimum of 22.6° in the nij^ht. and a violent south- 
west storm rendered it dilTicult to read the instruments. 
The hundred-and-fourth point was fixed at len<fth at the 
edj^e of the water of Langak t-o. I have no s])ace here 
to analyze the results. The channel runs west-north-west, 
and the line measured is 10 2^t, yards long, or twice as 
long as repri'senti'd on the most recent maps. The 
surface of I.angak tso lay 44 feet below that of 
mavang. which agrees very well with the diCferencc of 




hoiKht on Kydrr's ma]), nanuly 50 fitt. 'riuro is no 
water Ixyomf tin- ninc-ty fourtli fixi-d jioint in the Ix'd. 
Tlu- Tilntans rolatnl a li'^^'tnd lonriTninL; tlic «)ri«,Mn of 
tlif channel. Two lart,'i' li>lu's in Tm) mavanj^ wiTi- 
deadly enemies and eluoeil each other. One was heaten, 
and in order to eseape lie darted ri.!,'ht throii^;h the isthmus, 
and the windin<;s of the channel bed nIiow the ccjurse of 
the flyinj^ fish. 

The morning of Auj^ust 26 was dull. dam]), and cold. 
Heavy cIchkIs tloaled over the earth, heralds _ of the 
monsoon rains, and I-aiij^'ak tso looked anything,' l)Ut 
invitinj; for a sail. liut we had the whole day before 
us, and any moment horsemen mij^dit come from Parka, 
take us by the neck and lead us back, whether we liked 
it or not,' to the ])ath of duty. Lan<,'ak tvi has a very 
irregular outline. Its chief basin in the south is begirt 
by rocks, in the north there is a smaller expansion, and 
between the two runs a contracted channel. .Ml we 
could venture to do was to row over the small basin 
westwards and then to the south-east, to a place on the 
eastern shore whither our camp could be moved. It 
could be done in a few hours, so we took nothing but 
the mast and sail. 

Tundup Sonam and Ishe were my boatmen, and we 
set out at half-i)ast five o'clock. We were at first in the 
lee of a promontory, but when we had i»a.->e(l it the whole 
lake came down upon us with rolling, foaming billows, 
showers of sjiray, and threatening surge. The waves 
were crowded together in the narrows to leeward, and 
a.ssumed curious irregular forms. Among them tossed of water-weed; the water was bright green and 
as clear and sweet as that of Tso-mavang. We are a 
little beyond the promontory; would it not be better to 
turn back? Xo; never turn back, never give in; still 
forwards! We were wet, but we kept our e(iuilibrium 
and parried the cunning assaults of the rolling waves. 
"Row hard and we shall .soon get into the shelter of the 
great point on the western shore." I even managed to 
take soundings, and found that the greatest depth was 
54J feet; the lake bottom was almost level. We had 






li t 

J ! 


fought with the waves for four hours before we landed 
on tlie north side of the promontory, where we were 
sheltered from the wind. 

Here we draw the lx)at to hind and reconnoitre. 
The ca\)c runs north-eastwards, and is covered with drift- 
sand which is in constant motion. On the shore phiin to 
the south-west yellow sands|)outs move aljout, whirling like 
corkscrews in the direction of the wind, and our pro- 
montory receives its .share of this load of sand. On the 
north the dune is very steep; from time to time fresh 
sand falls down the slope and slii)s into the lake, where 
the waves sweep it away. Irom the sharp ridge of the 
dune the driftsand is blown like a dense plume to the lake, 
and the water is tinged with yellow for cjuite 200 yards 
in the direction of the wind by myriads of grains of sand, 
which fall to the bottom and l)uild up a foundation under 
water on which the promontory can extend out into the 
lake. The wind has Ixen strong, and now \vc have a 
storm. Patience! We cannot go back. The driftsand 
now floats so thickly over the lake that the eastern and 
northern shores are invisiltle; we might Ix; sitting on a 
dune in the heart of the Takla makan desert. 

We slipped down to the sheltered side of the dune, 
but here, out of the wind, it was still worse. We were 
envelop<(l in clouds of sand, which penetrated everywhere, 
into our eyes, lars, and noses, and irritated the skin where 
it came into contact with the Ixxly. The moaning howl of 
the storm was heard above and aroui.l us. My oarsmen 
slept or strolletl alx)Ut, but their footprints were at once 
obliterated by the wind. I played with the sand like a 
child — let it roll down the lee -ide, built a small peninsula, 
which was immediately destroyed by the waves, and a 
harlwur mole, which the sea beat over and broke up — and 
watched how new layers and clumps of dead seaweed 
appeared on the sand slope, and how the dry sand formed 
falls and cascades as it rolled down. But the stoim did 
noi abate. 

We lay waiting there for four hours. On the eastern 
shore our men had moved the camp a little farther south. 
We saw the tents quite plainly. Should we venture to 

♦ *i 



j(); K Ml \> 111 msi' \v will i.ii\ii'\. 

2tili. My I'MkMlKl-H. 






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creep along the shore southwards so as to reach a point 
opposite the camp? Out Ix^vond the promontory the 
dark-green V kc ran uncomfortably high, but we were a. 
match for 'he waves — the men had only to put their 
weight on to the oars. So we crept along the shore, 
where we got some shelter, but we had to l^e careful that we 
wer? not carried out into the heaw seas. After rowing 
round two points we landed on the lee-sidc of a third, 
where the boat was drawn ashore again. Heavy seas 
with thundering, towering waves dashed against the 
southern side of the point, so that we could go_ no 
farther, for no pilot would encounter such billows in a 
canvas boat. I sto(xl on the top of the promontory and 
enjoyed the fine spectacle. Robert's tent shone brightly 
in the setting sun. We saw the men, the horses grazing 
on the bank, and the smoke of the camp-fire beaten down 
by the storm. The crossing would barely take an hour, 
but between us and them yawned the dark-green abyss of 
tyrannical, all-conquering waves. 

The sun sets and we still sit and wait, confused by the 
rush of the spirits of the air and water. This time they 
have played us a pretty trick, and we have been caught. 
To the north rises Kang-rinpoche, lofty and bright as a 
royal crown. Its summit is like a chhortcn on the grave 
of a Grand Lama. Snow and ice with vertical and slightly 
inclined fissures and ledges form a network like the white 
web of a gigantic spider on the black cliffs. 

And the day, a long day of waiting, nearcd its inevi- 
table close. Shadows lengthened out over the foaming 
waves, the sun set, and the Fundi mountain, our old friend 
of Tso-mavang, glowed like fire in the sunset. Clouds of 
a deep blood -red colour, with edges of orange, and tinted 
above with reddest gold, hovered over its summit. It was 
as though the earth had opened and volcanic forces had 
burst forth. The hours passed by, the glow died out, the 
outlines of Fundi Ix-came indistinct and were at length 
swallovvcd up in the darkness. We were in the dark 
while the camp-fire blazed on the eastern shore. Our 
hopes were now centred on the night and the moon. 
The storm had raged thrice tv>cnty-fuur hours, and it 

"/' ''I 

- ''1 


r-'iki: ■ : StJ'i^^ii 

*^ai!.3sSME»ie«:-'«»i-.a«Ka mS'^-^' " 

f ' 

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must end some timi ; but it was just as strong. And as 
it was useless to wait, and I could not appease my gnawing 
hunger with a piece oi bread and a cup of tea, I wrapped 
myself in the sail, burrowed into the sand, and fell into a 
sound sleep. 

The rain pelting down on the sail woke me twice, and 
about four o'clock in the morning the cold thoroughly 
roused me. A dreary, grey, rainy outlook. But Ishe 
proposed that we should try to get over, ior the storm had 
slightly al)ated in conse<iuence of the rain. We first made 
sure that the tackle was in good order, and then stepped 
into the boat ami rowed out along the sheltered side of 
the promontory. Hut scarcely had the nose of the boat 
])assed bevond the ])oint when it received a shock that 
made all its joints crack. "Row, row as hard as you can," 
I yelled through the howling storm; "we shall get over 
Ix'f'ore the boat is full. It is better to Ix.' wet th'in suck 
our thumbs for twenty-four hours more." To the south, 
52° K., the tent canvas shone white in the morning grey. 
\\'e straved far out of our course, but cut the waves 
cleanly, and steered towards the surf. We just managed 
to get o\er. We were received on the other side by 
our men, v.ho helped us to draw the boat ashore and 
had fire and breakfast ready for us. 

Namgval had returned from Parka and brought news 
that the Gova threatened to drive away my men in order 
to force me to leave Langak-tso. BlutT, however, has no 
effect on me. .\ more serious matter was that Puppy had 
not been seen for forty-eight hours, anrl that Shukkur AH, 
who had gone the morning before to Chiu-gompa in search 
of her, had not been heard of since. Pupj)y at length 
found her way into camp herself, and then it was Shukkur 
Ali who was missing. 

(^n the 2Sth the storm continued. We afterwards 
heard from Tibetans that stormy weather frequently pre- 
vails on Langak tso, anfi the lake is agitated, when Tso- 
mavang is smooth anrl calm. Tundup Sonam concluded 
that Tso-mavang was a pet of the gods, while demons and 
devils ruled over I.angak-tso. We had heard a tale in 
Gossul gompa that the preceding winter five Tibetans, 




armed with swords and gun-, had crossed the ice to reach 
Parka by a shorter way, Init in the middle of the lake the 
ice had given wa\ , and all five were dragged down by the 
weight of their weapons to the bottom. 

I wishe<l for fuie weather that I might Ix- able to cross 
over the lake t(; the islands. As, however, we were 
obliged to give up all thoughts of a voyage, I determined 
to pass round the lake and at any rate draw an outline 
map of it. We commenced, then, with the eastern shore, 
which makes a regular curve towards the east. The 
white mule from P(jonch carried the boat. Some Ovis 
Ammons were seen on the r(x:ks, which Tundup Sonam 
stalked unsuccessfully. Shukkur Ali turned up again as 
cool as a cucumber, having searched in vain for Puppv, 
vhich was snoring in my tent in most excellent condition. 
August 29. We go to sleep amidst the roaring of the 
waves and the howling of the storm, and awake agam to the 
same uproar. It is always in our ears as we ride along 
the shore. We might be 'at the foot of a waterfall. Now 
we follow the south shore westwards. Here the cliflFs are 
almost everywhere precipitous, and the rocks are porphyry, 
granite, and schist; the shore strip is extremely narrow 
and steej), and is divided into sharj)ly marked terraces. It 
descends right down to great depths', and shallow, gradu- 
ally _ .sloping places arc not to be found. A human skull 
lay in a bay bobljing up and down in the waves, and not 
far of! were other parts of a skeleto ,. Was it one of the 
men who had been drowned in the winter? At this dis- 
covery my men conceived a still greater aversion to Lan- 
gak-tso, which even took human life. I perceived that 
they were wondering what further foolhardiness I might 
indulge in. 

A sharp-pointed peninsula running north-westwards 
delayed us. On the bay Ixyond a caravan was camj)ing, 
and we were glad to meet Tilxtans again when all others 
had withdrawn from us. And they were glad to meet a 
European who had been at the Lu'ma-ring-tso, their home. 
But^ they could not understand whv we passed round all 
projections and went right round all the bays, instead of 
following the direct road running a little farther to the 

' <l 




li i! 

[111 ' 





south. One of them held out his hands towards me with 
the fingers spread out, and saifi that the south shore of the 
lake had as many indentations. When I told him that I 
wished to draw a map of the lake, he said that it was of no 
consequence what the shore was like, as only egg-gatherers 
came there. 

When we had passed two projecting points wc en- 
camped at the extremity of the cape which lies in a line 
with the southernmost island. It was stormy, but here we 
found shelter under a cliff with a streamer pole on the top. 
Stone walls, rags, and eggshells were evidence of the visits 
of men. On the east and west of the cape were open bays 
with heavy seas, and to the north, 19° E., we saw the 
southern point of the island — a dark precipitous rock, 
rising like a huge roll of bread from the waves. We had 
already heard of this island, Lache-to, on which the wild- 
geese lay their eggs in May, and are robbed of them by 
men from Parka who come over the ice. I could not 
therefore omit to visit it. The island lay quite near. We 
would return immediately, and Adul might lx!gin to roast 
the wild-goose which Tundup had shot on the march. We 
wanted no provisions, but Robert advised Ishe to take a 
bag of tsamba with him, lest he should have to wait too 
long for his dinner. 

These two men took the oars when we put ofT. The 
shelter of the cape was deceptive. Two minutes from the 
bank I tried to take a sounding, but the line made a 
great curve before it reached the bottom, for the storm 
drove the boat northwards. Then we fell upon another 
device: the boatmen had only to hold their oars in the 
air and let the wind carry the boat along. But a 
little farther out we could not sail so easily, for the wave 
system of the eastern open part of the lake came into 
collision with that from the west. Here the waves rose 
into hillocks and pyramids, and had to be negotiated 
with the oars. We rapidly drew near to the island, and its 
rocks became higher and looked threateningly dark and 
dangerous. When we were close to the southern point I 
perceived that it was impossible to land there. The bank 
of rubbish and blocks was very steep, and we and the 


•^ :*^"1:^& 











' 1 

I !i 






boat would have been flashed in pieces in the foaming 
breakers. The situation was critical. Rolx-rt wished to 
land on the lee-side of the northern point, hut that would 
have Ix-en risky, for the storm sweiJt unchecked along the 
sides of the island, and if we did not get under the land at 
the right moment we .should be driven out into the open 
lake at a distance of two days' voyage from the northern 
shore. We rocked up and down on soft green crvstal. I 
steered to the eastern bank, where the waves were as high. Here we had no choice. I turned the bow 
towards the land, and the men rowed for all they were 
worth. A nasty billow threw us ashore. Robert jumped 
out, slipped, and got a ducking. Ishe hurrie<l up to help 
him. Three billows broke over me before I got to land. 
We were all three drenched, but we were glad to have 
firm ground under our feet, and to have reached the island 
siifely in spite of the treacherous storm which might have 
driven us past this open roadstead. 

Then Robert and I went round the island while Ishe 
collected fuel. Though we could only walk slowly over 
the detritus, we took but twenty-five minutes to go round 
the island and ascertain its form by compass bearings. It 
is longish, runs from north to south, and consists of a 
single rock falling on all sides steeply to the water. 
During our walk the wind dried us. Then I drew a 
panorama of Gurla Mandatta, and after that the spot 
of earth to which fate had led us prisoners was subjected 
to a closer investigation. At the north-ea.stern foot of 
the elevation is a rather flat pebbly plateau. Here the 
wild-geese breed in spring, and here lay still several 
thousand eggs, in twos, threes, or fours, in a nest of 
stones and sand. 

That was a discovery. Ishe had a bag of tsaniba, but 
that was all. There was every probability that we should 
have to stay the night here, and now we had a quite 
unexpected store of provisions to last for months. And 
some time this persistent wind must cease. We played at 
Robinson Cru.soe, and found our situation very advanta- 
geou.s. Rut the egg-collecting was the most interesting. The 
eggs were pretty and appetizing as they lay half embedded 


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in tlu- sand, and I pictured to mysdf the happy racklmK 
tliat mii4 -<) on in tlie -i^rin^; when the «oo>e mothers sit 
with expeetant hearts on tlie hard ne>ts, and the sun 
n.HKls (lurla Manchilla with a sea of hj^ht. 

We broke two. Thev were rotten. We trie, others 
which lav in the shade and deeper in the s;md. Ihey 
LMve out' a horrible steneh when the shell broke with a 
rrick on a stone. But of alx.ut 200 e^'^s we broke, we 
found ei-ht whieh were edible, an.l we di<l not w'ant more. 
We heli,ed I,^he to colleet <lry plants lyini,' on the sl(.{)C-s 
and at sunset we had a hu-e heap whieh we had piled 
within a small rinj^ fence. In the muldle the fire was 
li-rjiied, and we sat leanin- a^'ainst the wall whieh shelterc. 
us from the wind. We were warm and comfortable. an( 
„ur siUisfaction reached its height when Ishe s store of 
tuimhu was divided into three eciual portions, and was 
eaten out of a w.xxlen bowl with the hand in place of a 
snoon. The -reatest inconvenience was that we had no 
other ves.sel but Ish-'s small wocnlen bowl, and therefore 
whenever one of us wanted a drink he had to tramp down 

^" Tlie Morn, still howled over the rock an<l through the 
holes an<l cr mies of the wall. Then the thouj^ht sho 
throu.'h mv iwind; "Is the boat moored^ securely? If it 


carried away! Then we are lost. Ah, but it 

shoUUl oe eariieu a\>tij . ^wv.. -^ — 
may be cast a.shore on the northern bank, and our men 
mav fetch it and come across to the island No, it ^ylll 
be 'tilled with water, and be sunk by the weight of the zinc 
plates of the centre-boards. But then we can mount in the 
morning to the southern ix,int and make our people under- 
stand bv sit,'ns that we want provisions. We have dritteu 
to the island in eighteen minutes. They can make a rat 
^vith the tent poles and stays, loa<l it with i.rovisions, and 
let it drift with the wind to the island. And we mav find 

"'"such' wer?"ti;e thoughts that Robert and I exchanged 
while Ishe was feeling about in total darkness at the land- 
in.'-i>lace. "What if we have to stay here til the lake 

in., jiuii-v _ ^ „-.j"' T c'i'l 1^"t nt this 

fre.'/es over. li)Ur nu.ntns ner.Le. i ^ •■!••• •--- -- • 
mo,mi,t UT heard Ishc's skl>s in Ihc san.l, an,l he calmed 




AI)\E\TURi:s 0\ LA.\G.\K-TS() 


us with the assurance that lx)th tin- lx)at and the oar^ wore 

Then we talked topether aj,Min and kept up the fire. 
The storm had aljated, l)Ut sudden ^usts earne down from 
all c|uart(rs. \\\- inspirted the water. an<l f<iund that we 
could make for t'r.e mainland without daiif,'er. ihit first we 
t(K)k all the remamin}^ fuel and piled it up into a hlazinj^ 
Ijonfire, which shone like a huf,'e Ixacon ovi r the lake. 
If any Tibet. m saw it. he must have thou>,'ht that an en- 
chanted lire was hurninj^ on the desolate island. 

The m<M)n was hif^h when we put otT and the lake was 
still rouj^h. Hut soon the Ijlack cafK' where our camp 
Rtocxl was seen on the southern .shore aj;ainst the dim 
background of mountains. In the middle of the sound 
the depth was 113 feet. We shouted with all our might, 
and were .s(K)n answered by a fire on the point, to which 
our jK'ople had come down. And the roasted wild-goose, 
which had waited so long for us, and a cup of hot tea 
tasted delicious in the early hours of morn. And still 
more delightful was it to cree]) into lx.'d after our short 
visit to the goose island, which raised its dark, mysterious, 
dolphindike ridge in the m(K)nlight. Never again wuuld 
my foot tread its [>caceful strand. 







lb M 





\Vf had scarcely drrssrd in the mornirif^ iK'forc the storm 
ra^ed aj^ain. (lalsan and a ^ova from Parka overtfM)k us 
here. 'I'lie fnrnur hruuj^'ht imivision-,, tlie hitter had strict 
onh'rs from his cliii-f, Parka Tasim, to tell me that if I 
did not at once betake myself to Parka, he would send off 
all my 1)ag,L,'a,t,'e to^ak tso, and forte me to move on 
to Puran^. Hut the gova himself was a jovial old fellow, 
and he received my answer that if Parka Tasjim ventured 
to meddle with my lx)xes, he should Ijc immediately 
deposed. If he kept (juiet a couple of days, I would 
come to Parka, and the rather that I found it impo.ssiblc to 
navif^jate the lake at this season of the year. 

Then we marched on westwards, in and out of the bays 
and round all the projections jinnluced by a mf)untain 
elevation n -th of (iurla, which prolonj^s its ramifications 
to the lake. The constantly changinj^ views, as we wind 
in and out and wander between land and water, are 
indescribably beautiful and charminj^. The two large 
islands lying far out in the lake we see wherever we may 
be. One is named Dopserma ; other water-birds breed 
there, but no geese. In winter yaks and sheep arc driven 
over the ice to the, where there is gocxi jxisturage. 
Wlicn cattle disease rages in the country the animals on 
Dopserma do not sutler. 

We ])assed round the sharp-pointed westernmost bay 
in a furious storm and blinding clouds of .sand, and en- 
camped on tlie shore : .^ain. i he same agreeable weather 
continued also on the last day of August as we travelled 



cnvp .. THI-: soiKCK OF riiK srri.Kj 


north c.istward^ atvl siw the Lan^'ak tvi iti .i n( \v and 
iKauliful a^|Hit. 'Ilir air was now cUar. Ri.nt; rinixKlu- 
and (lurla Mandatta wrrc undoiidi-d, anil sIckkI as >rn 
tini'ls alK)Vc' tin- lakrs. \\c |ia>Mi| tlir imint wlitrc riindiip 
Sonam. Islic, and I had waited m) loni^', and liy thi' >.ind- 
duno where we had lain four hours. 

At the norlhwestiTn hay we cross the oM hoi cjf the 
Sutk'j, consistinj^ of treacherous cjuakin^' l;o^,' or dry hard 
clay; it is hroad. lias no terraces, and has been much 
(le^,'rade(l and smoothed down hy deflation and drift^and 
in later times. Two springs rise up in the middk-, and 
flow in the direction of the lake. Westwards tiie U'd 
seems (juite level, hut ai tually it rises slowly and ivenly 
to a flat culmination, on the other side of wiiii h it dips 
down towards the Indus. 

\ow it had Ix'comc dark, and we nxle hour after hour 
amonj^ low hills and dunes and over meadows and water 
channels. I thout^ht we had lost our way, when the hells 
of grazing cattle were heard, a fire appeared, and Kabs»ing 
came to meet us with a lantern in order to lead us to the 
villa<,a' Parka, where my tent was set up in a courtyard. 

During the much needed day of rest we allowed our- 
selves in Parka, I negotiated now and then with the govas 
of the neighlxmrhood. They asked me to set ot'f definitely 
for the west ne.\t day, and I promised to do .so, hut on 
the condition that I might stay three days in Khaleh, half 
a day's j(jurney to the west. They consented without 
inf|uiring into my further intentions. I wi.shed, Ix; it 
known, to round the holy mountain hy the pilgrim 
road, hut saw that the authorities would never grant their 
permission. It could be done only by .stratagem. 

Here I received a second very kind letter from Mr. 
Ca.ssels, who hap|K'ned to Ix? in Oyanima on olficial 
bu.siness. Unfortunately the force of circumstances pre- 
vented us meeting. He gave me a pleasant \^'ith 
three packets of tea, which were the more welcome as I 
had latterly had to p"t up with brick tea. 

Here also the truth of the reiM)rt that had .so long 
followed us, that six Chinese and Tilx.'tc.n olTicials from 
Lhasa had been sent to bring me to reason, was at length 






r i' 


ii i 

iikkIc clear. Tlu' report was certainly true, hut when the 
gentlemen on reai hin.t,' Sakad/.onj^ iii'anl that I nad 
marcheil on westwards some time hefore, they simply 
turned hack ai^ain. 

I oljtained all kinds of information alx)Ut the tw;) lakes 
and their jjeriodical outlets, from Tihetans who had long 
lived in the country. Four years before some water had 
llowtd from Tso-mavang to Langak-tso, which confirms 
Ryder's statement. Twelve years ago the outllow had 
been so abundant that the channel coukl not be passed 
excejjt by the bridge. The channel is sometimes called 
Ngangga,' sometimes danga. The water uf Langak-tso 
is'^said to drain off umlerground, and to ai)pear again at a 
jtlace in the (jld bed called Langchen-kamba, and this 
water is said to be ll:e true source of the Sutlej,^ and to 
find its wav to the large .streams wliich form this river, 
called in Tibetan Langchen kamba. Twelve years and 
forty-cigiit vears ago tlie sjjring in the old bed is said 
to "have emitted much more water thaa now. Sherring 
collected similar data in 1905. 

Langak-tso is said to have been so poisonous in former 
times tiiat any one who drank of its water died, but since 
the holy Tish' broke though the isthmus and passed into 
the lake, the water has been sweet. Langak-tso freezes 
in the beginning of December, half a month sooner than 
its eastern neighbour, and the freezing jjroceeds .slowly 
and in patches, whereas freezes over in an 
hour. Langak-tso also breaks up half a month before 
Tso-mavang. Hoth have ice 3 feet thick. In winter 
the surface of Tso-niavang falls 20 inches beneath the ice, 
which consequently is cracked and fissured, and dips 
from the shore; but .sinks only one or two 
thirds of an inch. This shows that it receives water 
con.stantly from the eastern lake, but only parts with a 
trilling (|uantilv in winter. 

With regard to the goose island. I was told that three 
men are commissioned by the Devasharg to settle on 
the island as .soon as the wild-geese arrive, to protect 
liiem from wohes aiui fc»xos. They receive o rupees, 
a sheep, and a lump of butter as wage:. At this time. 



in May, the ice is still 2 feet thick, but the c-f^j^-^atherers 
must take care that tliey are not cut otT from the mainland 
by a storm. Some years a<:;o it hajJiJened that two watch- 
men were isolated on the island in this way. They lived 
there eight months, subsisting on eggs and green focxi, 
and returned over the ice ne.xt winter as soon as the lake 
was fro7xn over. But one of the.ii was .so enfeebled that 
he died on reaching Parka. 

After a lively feast held by the Ladakis in the evening, 
we rule on September 2 north-westwards, accompanied })y 
an old grey-headed gova, who had become a particular 
■friend (jf mine. The weather was fine, but we now felt 
biting cold in the morning, much as at home on the 
islets olT the coast when tlic yellow leaves have fallen 
and a thin sheet of ice has spread over the inlets. All 
Parka was on foot to witness our departure. With us set out 
a '■ "^h lama whom 1 had known in Leh. His retinue 
looked well in their yellow dresses against the grey and 
green ground. He had been in Shigatse, and had lately 
made the circuit of the holy mountain. During the march 
we vaded through the rivers, Dam-chu, Sung-chu, La-chu, 
anil Khaleb, which together carried about 350 cubic feet of 
water per .second to Langak-tso. 

The nearer we came to the holy mountain, the less 
impo.sing it appeared ; it was finest from Langak-tso. In 
form it resembles a tetrahedron set on a prism. From 
the middle of its white top a belt of ice falls precipitously 
down, and below it stands a stalagmite of ice, on to whit h 
a thick stream of water pours from above. The stream 
splits up into glittering drops of sj)ray and thin sheets of 
water — a grand spectacle, which one could watch with 
pleasure for hours. 

Our cam]) on the Khaleb moor had the advantage of 
being far from the haunts of men — a very necessary con- 
dition, for here I contrived to make three excursions 
without |)ermission. The second of these took a whole 
day, September 6, and its aim was the old bed of the 
Sutlej. Where we reached it, the bed seemed to contain 
siagiiani Welter both to the east and woi, and the grv<un i 
was quite level. At the place which seemed highest, we 



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tested it with the boiling-point thermometer and found that 
it stood about 30 feet above the lake. Following the lx>d 
westwards we come first to a large pool of sweet water 
with large quantities of ducks and water-weeds, then to a 
series of freshwater swamps connected by channels, and 
at length to a brook, which flows sl(iwly south-westwards. 
The brook pours into a large freshwater \)0()\ Xo. 2, which 
has no vi.siblc outlet. Hut when we j)roceed farther west 
to the point where the bed is contracted between walls of 
solid rock, we come upon two springs forming a new brook, 
which flows through a clearly marked valley to the south- 
west. I am convinced that this water filtrates underground 
from Langak-tso. A year later I followed the old bed a 
day's march farther west, and found at Dolchu-gompa 
permanent springs of abundant water, which likewise well 
up on tiie bottom of tlie bed. From here and all along its 
course through the Himalayas the Tibetans call the Sutlej 
Langchen-kamba, the Elephant river; the hill on which 
the convent Dolchu-gompa is built is supposed to bear 
some resemblance to an elephant, and hence the name. 
The spring at Dolchu is called Langchen-kabab, or the 
mouth out of which the Elephant river comes, just as 
the Brahmaputra source is the Tamchok-kabab, or the 
mouth out of which the Horse river comes and the Indus 
source is the Singi-kabab, c)r the mouth from which the 
T>ion river comes. The fourth in the series is the Mapchu- 
kamba, the Peacock river or Karnali. The Tibetans assert 
that the source of the Sutlej is at the mona.stery Dolchu, 
not in the Himalayas or the Trans-Himalaya, from which, 
however, it recei\es very voluminous tributaries. They 
are also convinced that the source water of the Langchen- 
kamba originates from Langak-tso. And I would draw 
particular attention to the fact that the first of the two 
lioly springs whicli pour their water into the Tage-tsangpo 
is also called Langchen-kamba (see p. 105), a proof that 
in old times the source was supposed to lie to the east of 

Xi)W I aflvise any one who takes no interest in the 
source of the Sutlej to skip the following quotation. 
During my stay in Kioto in December 1908, Mr. Ogawa, 




11 ' 



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' I 
' " 1 


I • 


ii 1 1.1 





Professor of Geography in the University there, showctl 
mc a collection of Chinese books. One of them, Shui-tao- 
ti-kang, or The Rlcmcnts of Hydrography, is a ccjmpila- 
tion of the author Chi Chao Xan in the 26th year of the 
Emperor Kien Lung, that is, the year 1762, and in this 
work, Book 22, is the following communication concerning 
the source of the Sutlej, which Professor Ogawa was kind 
enough to translate for mc literally:' 

The Kang-ka-kiang comes out from Kang-ti-ssu-shan, on the 
south-east of which there stan ' Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan 
(= Langchen-kabab), magnificent \\ . an elephant. The relief is 
gradually accentuated more and more towards the south-western 
frontiers, anil culminates at Kang-ti-?su-shan (= Kailas). The 
mountain has a circumference of more than 140 li. On all sides 
the mountain forms precipitous walls more than icxx5 feet high 
above the surrounding mountains, and accumulated snow seems as 
if hung on clifTs. Hundreds of springs pour down from the top, 
but flow under the ground on the foot of the mountain. It is 
situated in the e.\treme west of the Tsang region, 310 ii north- 
east of Ta-ko-la-cheng in A-li, more than 5590 li south-west of 
Si-ning-fu in Shensi jirovince. Its longitude is 36°4' W., and its 
latitude 30°5' N. In olden times the place was unknown, but can 
be doubtfully identified with A-nok-ta-shan in the annotation of 
Shui-ching. In the neighbourhood there are four high mountains, 
of which the southern is called Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan, lying 
250 li south-by-east of Kang-ti-ssu-shan, and 270 li ea.'^t of Ta-ko- 
la-cheng. The natives call it so, because the form of the mountain 
resembles an elephant. On the east of this mountain there stands 
Ta-mu-chu-ko-ka-pa-pu-shan (= Tamchok-kabab), which is the 
source of the Ya-lu-tsang-pu river (= Yere-tsangpo or Brahma- 
putra). Springs come out from the northern foot of the moun- 
tain, and accumulate into a lake (35°5' W., and 20°i' N.). The water 
flows north-westwards for 70 li, and receives a stream coming from 
the north-east. The stream lies in the mountains 80 li north-east 
of Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu. Two streams flow westwards from the 
mountain and turn north-westwards after their junction. It now 
takes a sinuous course for 60 li, turns south-westwards, and joins the 
main river. This is a source. 

The river flows further to the west-by-north for 40 li, then to 
the north-east, to be met by the water of lake Kung-sheng (= Gun- 
rhu-tso), which sinks under the ground of the lake basin, but 
which, aft>T reappearing, and after receiving three northern afilu- 
ents, runs south-westwards to the river. 

' I h ivi- (inly omitted a couple of sentences, which h.ive no immediate connection 
with the problem. 

S^- .^ 


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i 1 







The lake of Kung-shcng-o-mo has two sources — one coming 
from the north-cast, from Ta-ko-la-kung-ma-shan, and flowing 
150-160 li; the other from the east, from the western foot of Ma- 
crh-yo-mu-linR (= Marium-la) in the western frontiers of Cho- 
shu-te. This last-mentioned mountain forms the eastern boundary 
of A-li, and is the chief range going south-eastwards from Kang-ti- 
ssu. The water (of the lake Kung-sheng) llows westwards for 
more than 50 li, and forms another lake, 80 li wide, and without 
an outlet. However, more than 10 li farther to the west there is a 
third lake with a subterranean source and with a length of ,^0 li. 
A stream comes from the north to the lake. The ri%-er now flows 
south-westwards for 60 li, and receives a stream coming from the 
north-east. 40 li farther south-westwards it receives a stream 
coming from the northern mountains; farther south-westwards the 
river meets the water from Lang-chuan-ka-pa-jiu-shan. 

The water forms the lake Ma-piu-mu-ta-lai (= Tso-mavang). 
From south to north it is 150 li long, from east to west 80 or 100 li 
wide, and has a circumference of more than 200 li. On the northern 
side of the lake there arc two streams coming from the north. The 
lake is situated 120 li to the south of Kang-ti-ssu. The water 
flows out from the west of the lake into the lake Lang-ka (= Lan- 
gak-tso) at a distance of 60 li. The latter lake receives a stream 
coming from the north-east. Lake Lang-ka has a narrow rec- 
tangular shape, pointed and elongated, the length from south to 
north being 170 li, and the width fiom east to west 100 li. Its 
northern pointed corner has the stream coming from north-east. 
There are three source;; on the southern foot at a distance of 70 
li from a southern branch of Kang-ti-ssu; they flow southwards, 
unite into one stream, which takes a south-westerly course for 
150 I Oo li before entering the lake. The lake is the same in 
circumference and area, but different in outline. 

The water (of lake Lang-ka) flows out from the west, and after 
running westwards for more than 100 li it turns to the south-west, 
and is now called the I^ang-chu-ho, and takes a sinuous course for 
more than 200 li. Then it receives the Chu-ka-la-ho coming 
from the north-east. 


This description of the position 01 the source of the 

Sutlcj is of such oxtraonlinury interest that 1 do not like 

to reserve it for my s'-ientific work, and the less so that it 

supports the theory I expressed when in India, that the 

Ta^e-tsant^jx) is nothing but the uppermost .section of the 

iwUrr-L- ul 




words, tliat the source of 
the Ta,u'e-tsan(;;po is also that of the Sutlej. Many quota- 
tions have been looked up during the discussion that has 

t-A4's*i.VS-^> '-.'' /itiSi. 

';'*Ki>S.&, v '-::'■&•"■>'¥': 



arisen on this j)r()ljlcm, but they cannot compare in im- 
portance with the one just cittjl, which, moreover, is sixty 
years older than the oldest of the others, namely, (krard's 
opinion that the (iunchu-lso is the sourrc of the Sutlej. 

The description in Chi Chao Xan's Ilydnv^riiphy is 
distinguished by the same careful c(}nformily iviih the truth 
and conscientiousness as all other Chinese geographical 
descriptions. Compare the (lescri|)ti<)n of Kailas (Kang- 
rinpoche) with what I have already said about it. 

Lang-chuan-ka-j)a pu is the Chinese translation of the 
Tilx-tan Langchen-kabab, which literally means the 
"Source of the Sutlej." When the Chinese author 
informs us that east of Langchen-kabal) lies '["amchok- 
kabab, which is the source of the river Yere-tsangpo 
(Brahmaputra), we must admit that his descrii)tion is 
quite in accordance with the truth, as I, the first European 
to visit this country, have myself discovered ; for on the 
Tamlung-la I stored on the pass which parts the water 
Ix'twcen the Brahmaputra and Sutlej, and immediately to 
the south of the pass I saw Gang-lung-gangri and the 
glacier from which the Tage-tsangpo takes its rise, and 
in which the source of the Sutlej lies. 

It is further said that the lake Gunchu-tso has two 
source streams — one from the north-cast, from the moun- 
tain Ta-ko-lakung-ma, which is evidently identical with 
D'Anville's Tacra-concla ; the other from the west side 
of the pass Marium-la: an account which agrees with 
Ryder's map in all ])articulars. At present the Gunchu- 
tso is completely cut olT and is salt; it therefore is no 
longer connected with the Sutlej system. But 147 years 
ago it had an outlet which ran partly underground, and 
then, rising up again, joined the Langchen-kamba or Tage- 
tsangpo. Ami that the Tage-tsangpo was at one time 
considered by the Til)etans to Ix the headwater of the 
Sutlej is apparent from the fact that its name, Langchen- 
kamba, is still applied to the upper of the two sacred source 
streams in the valley of the Tage-tsangpo. 

And, again, it is said: This water, that is, the water of 
the Langchen-kabab, or the headwater of the Sutlej, forms 
the lake Ma-piu-mu-ta-lai, the Tso-mavang or Tso-mavam, 

iV%- ,=ii^^^^■ 







as the name is also pronounced ; on D'Anvillc's map 
(Map 2). it i> written Ma i)ama Talai, and D'Anville ex- 
plains that Talai sii^nifies lake. He mi,t,dit have added 
that it is tlu' same word as in Dalai Lama, the priest, 
whose wisdom is as unfathomaMe as the oeean ; for the 
Chinese word 'i'alai or Dalai means ocean. Hv the use 
of this word the Chinese author wished to imply that Tso- 
mavanj^ is much larj^er than the other lakes mentioned 
in his text. 

The sur])lus water, as tluTe is every reason to assume, 
flowed in the year 1 762 fn^m Tso-mavan^ throu<,di the 
channel to Lan<^ak tso. The lenj^th of the channel was 
(k) li, which C(jrresponds to my 5^ miles. All the northern 
tributaries which flow into the two lakes from the valleys 
of the Trans Himalaya are correctly noted. The lake 
Laniiak is called Lan.i,' ka. On DWnville's map, the 
material for which was supplied by the Jesuits who lived 
in Fekin in the time of the Kmpenjr Kan.^ Ili (at the 
be,t;inning of the eighteenth century), the lake is named 
Lanken. On the sanu- map the river 'lowing thence 
westwards is called Lanc-tchou (Sutlej). but it is sug- 
gested, absurdly enough, that it is the upper course of 
the Ganges. D'.Anville names the mountains south of 
Tso-mavang Lantchia-Kepou, which is Langchen-kabab, 
and the mountains lying to the south-east of tl.em Tam- 
tchou, that is, Tamchok, in which he quite correctly 
places the origin of the Yarou Tsanpou, the Brahmaputra. 
The material for the maj) of the whole Chinese Empire, 
which the Jesuits presented to the Emperor Kang Hi iri 
the year 1718, was collected between the years 17^8 and 
1 7 16, and the Emperor procured information alxjut Tibet 
through natives, who were prepared for their work by the 
Jesuits, just as in later times English topographers have 
trained Indian ])undits. 

From '^'Anville's map we learn that 200 years ago 
the Sutlej llowed out of Langak-tso through ' the bed 
I have already described. Professor Ogawa's translation 
of the Chinese text shows us that even in the vear 1762, 
or ])erliaps some years before, the river still emerged from 
the Langak-tso. And it is expressly said that the river 




Chu-ka-la-ho (Chu-kar, which, however, is said to descend 
from the north-east instead of the south east) is only a 

In the year 1846 Henry Strachey found no visible 
outk't, but he says that there is one underground, and 
considers it prol)abk' that the channel also may carry 
water when the lake has risen after heavy rains. 

On July .^o. 190H. I hear! from the chief lama of the 
monastery Dolchu gompa, who was born in the neighlxiur- 
ho(Kl and was then fifty-five years old, that when he was 
quite young, water occasionally flowefl out of the lake. 
But when he was ten years old, that would be in the year 
1863, this water had failed, and since then no more had 
Ix'en seen. On the other hand, the springs in the Ixx] 
are constant both in winter and in summer, and are 
independent of the precipitation. The monks l)elievc that 
the water comes from I.angak-tso, but nevertheless they 
call it the Langchen kabab, the river which flows out of 
the mouth of the elephant. 

My investigations on the s[)ot, as well as the Chinese 
quotation, prove that Colonel S. G. Burrard is quite right 
in his masterly descri[)tion of the rivers of the Himalayas 
and Tilx't (Calcutta, 1907), when he includes Tso-mavang 
and Langak-tso and all their aflluents in the drainage 
basin of the Sutlej, and therefore I will here cite two 
sentences of Colonel Burrard : 

The connection between the two lakes may be taken as 
established, but that between the western lake and the Sutlej basin 
is still open to question. If the water from Rakas Tal flows into 
the Sutlej once a ccnturj-, and then only for .'^uch a ^.hort period 
as to be observed by no one, we shall still be justified in including 
the lakes in the catchment area of the river. 

And in this connection I would point out that the 
water-level of Tibetan rivers and lakes is subject to 
periodical fluctuations, flependent on the precipitation, of 
the same kinfl as the Bruckner perio<ls. The level in the 
two lakes varies from year to }ear. M the present time 
they are very low, but there is nothing to prevent them 
rising gradually m a more or less distant luture. Tso- 
mavang may rise so that its water may again flow through 




1 88 



the channtl to Langak tso, and this lake at length may 
discharge its surplus water, as formerly, through the dry 
U-d of thv Sullej. It is more probable, however, that 
Lan<,'ak tso is ai)proa{hing a time when it will lose its 
subterranean outlet also, and l)e (juite isolated, like 
(lunelui tso and I'.inf,'gonf^-tso, and consefjUently lx.'Come 
salt in timi'. Hut after it has lost its outlet it may Ik- a 
\(m<!, time, as Professor Hriickner informs me, iK'fore the 
lake iK'conies notiteably salt. The next step in the 
development will be that Tso mavanj; will Ik; eut off from 
Lanj^ak tso and likewise lx.tome salt. 

llowiver, we need not |)lunge into speculations and 
|)ro}^n()sti(ations of the future, which may have surprises 
in store about which we can form only more or less 
pr(.l)able conjectures. It is our duty to rely solely on fact 
and observation. 

And now that we are agreed that the two lakes Ix'long 
to the drainage area oi the Sutlej, the question is: Which 
of the riviis <kl)ouching into Tso-mavang is the head- 
water of the Sutiij? Naturally, the longest and the one 
which carrirs most water. The river which once flowed 
out of (junchu tso has no claim to this honour, and the 
(iunchu-tso must Ik- rejected as the e'jurce of the Sutlej. 
The Tage-tsangpo discharged 388 cubic feet of water per 
second, while all the other streams entering Tso-mavang 
carried at most 100 cubic feet each. The source of the 
Tage tsangpo in the front of the Ganglung glacier is 
therefore the source of t;i' Sutlej. 


^i'^ , , 

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.5^ -^j-'.-'Avt'-r" V-Tc:f/ ij 

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Wf art- a^ain on the KhaKb moor and tin- day is 
Sti.tcmUT ^, on which wc arc to iKgin the circuit of the 
holy mountain. The head of Parka is with us to 
hol.l me in check, but I take very ko(k1 care not to Ix-tray 
my plans. Tserin^. Rahsang. Nam^^yal. and Ishe are to 
fro with me; they are Lamai^ts, and are ^lad of the 
opportunity to come nearer the gates of salvation by 
wandering round the holv mountain. We take provisions 
for three davs, the absolutely necessary instruments, 
sketch- and note-lx)oks. The stand of the large camera 
and one of the l)oat's tari)aulin^ are to servi- as a tent. 
The whole baggage is only a light load for a horse-. 
I ride my small grey Ladaki an<l the four min march 
on foot, for no one'mav ride round the holy mountain 
unless he is a heathen," like myself. The rest of the 
caravan is to wait for us in Khaleb, and my tent is to 
Ix; left untouched that the Tilx.-tans may think that I am 
expected back in the evening. 

Tsering, Xamgval, and Ishe start early, and Rabsang 
and I a little later. The Gova and his men come to ask 
what it all means and whither I am going, but I answer 
onlv, "I shall soon lx< back again." and ride olT to the 
north, 30° E., to the mouth of the Dunglung valKy. 

The others wait for us among the first moraines, anrl then 
wc proceed in close column up and down among old rnoraines 
which have been thrust down by vanished glaciers. .V 
pa'">v ''-f '>i|<Trim'^. from. Kham. in the distant east are 
resting on 'the bank of the Dunglung river They have 






Iv ''i 

■ i 

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pitchcfl their tents, and their horses are grazing on the 
fresh grass. From the top of the moraine is seen the 
northern part of our stormy Langak-tso. 

We ride up the valley and soon have on lx)th sides 
solid rock of hard green and violet conglomerate, with 
huge C(jnes of detritus at the foot of the slopes. Enormous 
boulders of conglomerate have fallen down here. On the 
left bank of the river, where the road comes up from 
Tarchen, stand a small cubical house and several viauis 
and chliorlciis in long rows: it is a sacred road, the road of 
pilgrims round Kang rinpoche. 

The clilTs assume ever wilder forms, falling perpen- 
dicularly to terraces and ])el\/.j screes, forming steps and 
ledges, fortification-^, battlements and towers, as though 
built by human hands. They consist of sandstone and 
conglomerate, and the strata (lip 10° to the south, and to 
the eye ai)pear horizontal. \ small bridge .spans the 
river. .\ party of pilgrims l)ehind us is just crossing it. 
But we are on the right bank, and above us Xyandi-gompa 
is perched on its terrace. .Xbove it rises the vertical wall 
oi" a hpge mountain mass, a dangerous background for the 
. ■ia':v-ry. Vp on a ledge dwelk a hermit, and quite at 
the i/p stands a streamer pcjle named Xyandi-kong. 
Five years ago a huge block fell down upon the monastery 
and laid half of it in ruins. The block still lies in the 
inner court. It was early in the morning after long- 
continuous rain ; no one was hurt, but the monastery 
had to be rebuilt. 

Two monks, two old women, and a boy received us 
kindly, and said it was the first time they had seen a 
European in X^yandi. The monastery, as well as the 
three others on Kailas, is under Tarchen-labrang, which is 
situated on the southern foot of the mountain, where the 
pilgrims begin ;'.nd end their circuit. Curiou.sly enough, 
these monasteries belong to Tongsa Penlop, the Raja 
of Bhotan. The preceding year, 1906, was a year of the 
fire horse, and the year 10 rS will be a year of the earth 
horse; every twelfth year is a year, in which wood, 
fire, earth, iron, or water 's ]irefixed to the name horse; 
the Tibetan cycle (the j)erioil of time which is the base of 

* ', 




the reckoning) extends over sixty years with the names of 
twelve different animals. Every horse year, and accord- 
ingly every twelfth year, crov.'ds of pilgrims come to 
Kailas. The monks siiid that they cannot be counted, but 
they knew that in the year 1907 more than 5000 jnlgrims 
had been at Xyandi, of whom the greater part came 
from Ladak. 

The Ihakaug, or hall of the gods, is very original. 
Four pillars supjxjrt the roof. The altar, like a Chinese 
kiosque of wood painted in colours, stands alone and in 
deep shadow, but so many votive lights are placed in front 
that they seem like a festival illumination. An especial 
lamp hangs before the image of Sakya-muni, which stands 
against a wall. In front of the altar is a huge copper 
vessel with a cover, which is called Tosungjon. It is said 
to have flown in old times from India through the air. In 
winter it is filled with butter, in summer with chang. A 
lama with a brass ladle poured the consecrated beverage 
into the bowls of my men, and out of the silver bowls with 
peacocks' feathers he poured holy water into the hollow of 
their hands; they drank of it and Ix^smeared their faces 
with the rest. All, e.xcept Rabsang, paid due reverence 
to the statues and prayed, and Tsering had murmured his 
prayers all the way along and let the beads of his rosary 
slip through his fingers. Two fine elephant's tusks 
(Langchcn-salj-ni ptcii) were set up Ix-fore the altar. 

In the Tsenkang hall is a figure of Hlabsen clothed in 
gold brocade and kadakhs, the god of Kang-rinpoche and 
Tso-mavang. In the ante-chamber is a whole arsenal of 
guns and swords and wooden and leathern shields, each 
with four iron lx)sses. On the outside of the monastery, 
which fronts the holy mountain, rows of artistically 
sculptured slabs are afl^ixed. On six of them each of 
the holy characters is incised, and each of the f:^igantic 
characters is again filled in with the invariable alpha 
and omega of Lamaism, "Om mani padme hum." On 
other flagstones gods are carved with wonderful dex- 
terity, and one feels a vain desire to buy one or two of 

The view from the roof is indescribably Ix^autiful. 




I! ' 

|l I 

h I 




Tlu' iry summit of K;inn-rini)ochc rises amid fantastic 
li^uml' i>rt(ii>it<)us rock.-, and in the foreground are the 
])i(lure;(|ue superstruc ture of the monastery and its 
streamers (niu>tration 265). 

Hut time tlies. After spendin*,' three hours in Xyandi, 
\\T sav farewell to the monks, descend the steep path 
/.I'^/.dii'Xw^ amon<^ rubhisli and boulders, and continue our 
journey to the north-north-east alonir the ri^dit Ixink of the 
river. ' At every turn I could stancl still in a^^toni>hment, 
for this valley is one of the "grandest and most beautiful in 
its \vildnes< I have ever seen. The precipice on the 
right >ide of the valley is divided into two stages with a 
terrace between them, and in the mid-t gapes a dark 
ravine. On the left side the rock forms a single vertical 
wall, and liere the eyes fall on a .succession of .angular 
forms of reliif, rocks like congealed cascades, citadels, 
chun h towers, and emb,. lied fortifications, parated by 
cafion like hollows. Water from meUing snuwlklds i)ours 
down the steej) slopes. One such jet of water is (|uite 
800 feet high and white as milk; the- wind turns it into 
.spray, but it collects again, only to be s])lit up against a 
projection. The rock around it is wet and dark with 
sjjurted drops. A natural rock bridge crosses a small cleft 
with vertical walls. 

Immediately beyond the monastery the .summit of 
Kailas is to view, but .soon a bit of it is .seen again 
through a gap. We passed twelve pilgrims, and soon after 
a .second partv resting on a s'ope. 'i'luy jjut on solemn 
faces and del not talk with one another, but murmur 
l)ravers, walking with their bodies bent, and leaning on 
a stall — free luently, too, without a staff. How they have 
longed to come here I And now they are here and walk 
round the mountain, which is always on their right. They 
feel no weariness, for they know that every stej) improves 
their prospects in the world bevond the river of rkath. 
And when they have returned to their black tent> in 
distant valK'Vs, ' they tell tlu ir friends of all the' wonders 
they have seen, and of the clouds, which sail like the 
dragon ships of old below the white ^ummit of (langri. 

(■.".iijiw! ("I'.irns nre cvervwiiero. T.^-erin." never 

(<„,., n 





omits to take up a stone from the margin of the road and 
lay it as his contribution on every such votive jiile, and 
thereby he does a ,uo(k1 (kijd, for he makes the way less 
rough for those who come after him. The sun looks out 
through a gap, and throws a bright yellow light into the 
valley, which otherwise is in shadow. The icy peak again 
ajjpears much foreshortened. Several tributaries come in 
from the sides, and towards evening the river rises, con- 
taining quite 280 cubic feet of water. 

A man from Gertse has been going round the mountain 
for twenty successive days, and now has just accomplished 
his tenth circuit. Dunglung-do is a very important valley 
junction, where three valleys converge — the Chamodung- 
chcn from the north. -0° \V., the Dunglung from the north, 
5° \V., and the third, called in its upi)er course Hledung])a, 
which we ascend. V\' now have granite on both sides. 
Kailas turns a shar; edge to the north, and from here 
the i)eak resembles a tetrahedron more than ever. Agam 
the mountain is concealed by an elevation of the ring 
which girdles it as Monte Somma encircles Vesuvius. 
The main river swells uj) towards evening ; the other two 
are sjjanned by bridges. Numbers of boulders lie all 
about. .Ml is granite, and therefore the mountain forms 
are rounder and more lumpy (Illustration 267). 

.\t length we see the monastery Diri-pu in front of us, 
standing on the slope on the right side of the valley. A 
huge block of granite beside the path up to it bears the 
usual sacred characters, and there also are long manis, 
streamers, and cairns. .Ml tlie j)ilgrims we have overtaken 
in the course of the day turn into the monastery, where 
they can pass the night free of charge. The convent is 
crammed full after the arrival of a ])arty of pilgrims 
belonging to the Pemlx) sect. These, of course, wander 
round the mountain in the reverse direction, and the 
ortJKjilox cast contemjjtuous glances at them when they 
miet. I prtfer to fiitch my tent on the rof)f, where the 
luL'gage of thi' j)ilgrims i.^ piled up. Here also there is a 
tnie view of Kaila-^. raising its summit due south. With a 
tem])erature of 40° at nine o'clock it is cold and disagree- 
able, for a strong wind jjiows, and my lent, consisting only 

' OL. U O 






of the camera-stand covered with a linen cloth, is too small 
to allow of a fire being lij.^hted (Illustration 268). 

Since I had Ix-cn successful in fixing the positions of 
the sources of the Brahmaputra and Sutlej, my old dream 
of discovering the source of the Indus was revived, and all 
my aspirations and ambition were now concentrated on 
this object. When I now learned from the monks that 
the i)()int where the famous river issues forth from the 
'•Mouth of the Lion" was only three days' journey to the 
north-east beyond a lofty pass, everything else seemed of 
trifling consequence compared to an advance into the 
unknown country in the north. We held a council of 
war; we had provisions only for two days more, and we 
had not brought enough money v»ith us, and, moreover, 
the state of affairs in Khaleb was too uncertain to allow of 
greater hazards. I therefore decided to carry out my 
original ])lan in the meantime and complete the pilgrimage, 
and afterwards make the source of the Indus the object of 
a fresh excursion from Khaleb, or, if the worst came to the 
worst, from Gartok. 

On September \ we take leave of the monks of Diri-pu, 
cross by a bridge the river which comes down from the 
pass Tseti-lachen la in the Trans-Himalaya, from the other 
side of which the water flows to the Indus, and mount 
in an easterly direction over rough steep slopes thickly 
lx;strewn with granite boulders. On our right is the river 
which is fed by the glaciers of Kailas; it is quite short, but 
is very full of water. The path becomes still steeper, 
winding among immense blocks of granite, and leads up 
to the first hump, after which the ground is a little more 
even to the next break. Here we have a splendid xnew of 
the short truncatc^l glacier which, fed from a sharply defined 
trough-shaped firn basin, lies on the north side of Kailas. 
Its terminal, lateral, and medial moraines arc small _ but 
distinct. Eastwards from Kailas runs off an exceedingly 
sharp, pointed, and jagged ridge, covered on the north side 
with snow, and belts of pebbles in the snow give all this 
side a furrowed appearance. From all corners of the ice 
m-mtlc and the snowficlds foaming brooks hurry down to 
the river. On our left, northwards, the mountains consist 

I * 

■', I 



! i' 


>'^ ! 




of vertical fissured granite in wild pyramidal forms. Kailas 
is protected on the north by immense masses of granite, 
but the mountain itself is in all i)robability of conglomerate, 
as shown by the nearly horizontal Ix'dding plainly per- 
ceptible in the projecting ledges, sharply markal snow- 
lines, and belts of ice. The summit rises alxjve this sea of 
wild mountains like a mighty crystal of hexagonal form. 

A party of poor women and children climbed WL'arily up 
to the pass. An elderly man, who was now making his 
ninth circuit, made no objection to join our party; he 
knew the country and could give information alx)ut it. On 
another rise in the ground, called Tutu-dapso, we saw 
hundreds of votive cairns, 3 feet high — quite a forest 
of stone pyramids — like innumerable gravestones in a 
churchyard (Illustration 270). 

Slowly and laboriously we climlx;d up this arfluous 
pass, one of the most troublesome on the whole journey. 
Thicker and thicker lay the boulders, exclusively of granite 
in all possible varieties, some pink and some so light a 
grey as to be almost white. Between two lx)ulders lay a 
suspicious-looking bundle of clothes. We examined it, and 
found that it contained the body of a man who had collapsed 
in making the tour of the mountain of the gods. His 
features were rigid, and he seemed poor and emaciated. 
No one knew who he was, and if he had any relations they 
would never learn that his i)ilgrimagc had launched him 
into new adventures among the dark mazes of the soul's 

Our old man stops at a flat granite block of colossal 
dimensions, and says that this is a dikpa-karnak, or a test- 
stone for sinners. A narrow tunnel runs under the block, 
and whoever is without sin, or at any rate has a clear 
conscience, can creep through the passage, but the man 
who sticks fast in the middle is a scoundrel. I asked the 
old man whether it might not happen that a thin rogue 
would wriggle through while a fat, honest fellow might 
stick fast; but he answered very seriously that stoutness 
had nothing to do with the result of the trial, which 
depended only on the state rvf the soul. Evidently our 
honest Ishe was not certain which way the balance of his 

h ) 

I u 



■I ; 





(onscicntc inclined, for, kforc wc were aware, we saw 
Iiim (li>ai)|)(arinK under the l)l()ck, and heard him iHiflini;, 
l)antin,^, and ^roanin^'. seruti liinj,' with hi- hands and tryiii}^ 
to gel a foothold behind. Hut when he h;ul iloundered 
.;l)out inside long and vigorously, he was at last obliged to 
(all for help in a half >trangled voice. We laughed till wc 
could hardly keej) on our feet, and let him stay awhile in 
his hole because of his manifist >infulness. Thin the two 
(jther men dragged him out by the K'g>, and he looked 
extremely confuxd (and du>ty) when he at length emerged 
again into the outer world, an unmasked villain. The old 
m;in told us that a woman Iiad become S(j firmly fixed that 
she had actually to be digged out. 

Some 200 i)'aces farther in this maze of granite boulders, 
among which wc wandered as in lanes between low houses 
and walls, stands a test stone of another kind. It consists 
of three blocks leaning on one another, with two hollows 
between them. The task is to creei) through the left 
passage and return by the right, that is, in the ortlKxlox 
direction. Here I>he made up for his jnevious discom- 
fiture by crawling through both holes. I told him frankly 
that there was no skill retiuired here, for the holes were so 
large that even small yaks could go through. However, 
the" sinner had in this second stone an opportunity of 
preserving at least a show of righteousness. 

Our wanderings round Kang-rinpoche, the "holy 
ice mountain" or the "ice jewel," is one of my most 
memorable recollections of Tilx't, and I ([uite understand 
how the Tibetans can regard as a divine sanctuary this 
wonderful mo"atain which has so striking a resemblance 
to a chhortou the monument which is erected in memory 
of a deceased saint within or without the temples. How 
often during our roamings had I heard of this mountain 
of salvation ! .\n<l now I myself walked in pilgrim garb 
along the path U'tween the monasteries, which are set, 
like precious stones in a bangle, in the track of ])ilgrims 
round Kang-rinpoche. the finger which points up to the 
might V gods throned like stars in unfathoma])le space. 

n.m inc nigiiianu^ 01 is.ii.u:: i;; i::-^ iCmoies, ^,,s,, 
from Xaktsang and Amdo, from the unknown Bongba, 





wliiih we havL' luard of only in vague r(.'j)orts. from the 
blat k tints uliidi stand like tlu' sjxtts of a leopard scattiTcd 
among the dnary valleys of Tilxt, from Ladak in the 
mountains of the far west, and from the Himalayan lands 
in the south, thousamls of pilgrims come hither annually, 
t) pace slowly and in deei) meditation the 28 miles round 
tile navel of the earth, the mountain of salvation. I saw 
the silent ])rocession, the faithful l)an<ls, among which 
all ages and both sexes are represented, youths and 
maidens, strong men with wife and child, grey old men 
who would before tluir death follow in the footsteps of 
countless pilgrims to win a happier existence, ragged 
fellows who lived like j)arasites on the charity of the other 
pilgrims, scoundrels who had tt) do ])enance for a crime, 
rohlxrs who had jjlundered peaceful travellers, chiefs, 
otricials, herdsmen, and nomads, a varied train of shady 
humanity on the thorny road, which after interminable 
ages ends in the deep peace of Nirvana. August and 
serene Siva looks down from her paradise, and Illabscn 
from his jewelled ])alace, on the innumerable human 
beings below who circle, like asteroids round the sun, in 
ever fresh troops, round the foot of the mountain, going 
up through the western valley, crossing the Dolma, 
and descending the eastern valley. 

We soon discover that most of these simy)le j)ilgrims 
have no clear idea of the Knefits their journey is su[)posed 
to confer on them. When they arc questioned, they 
usually answer that after death they will Ix' allowed to sit 
near the god of Gangri. Ikit what they all believe nv >[ 
firmly and obstinately is that the pilgrimage will bri " 
them a blessing in this world. It will ward off all 
from their tents and huts, v,ill keep away sickness fn r.i 
their children and herds, protect them fnjm robbers, 
thieves, and losses, will send them rain, good pasturage, 
and increase among their yaks and sheep, will act like a 
talisman, and guarrl themselves anrl their pro[)erty as the 
four s,)irit kings protect the images of the tem[)le halls 
from demons. They march with light elastic step, thi'V 


Tile iCV-COid Ciitting wsnd niji the s(.;;!'eiiiiig 

sun; every step is a link in a chain whirh cannot be broken 


l» ' 







iSiM!::.r:^^^^,^^t :;|;;fM>c;.ocutc and torment t 

step nearer to the Unt whTr. tf, ""• ^""^^ '^^'"^ 
'lurins the whole pcSn.t±^ ""« ^''^^^'■"^- ^^ 

padme hum," and Jverv^ "?, ?H.- '' ^'■■'^' ^^"^ ""^^ 
let a Ix-ad of the r arv n. ^h' ^''V'V' ""^■''^^ ^^c 
stranger also u tmn ^ \-' •^^'■""^'^' ^''^' finfi^'rs. Th 
awe. It ncXiabf: ,^''"«-'-'"I"-he with a feeling 

world, ^^.un TSram^^^^ T\ ^m""' "^"""^^'" '" ^h 
it. Vet there arc ni licw," 'f r ^'^'"' ^'"""^ ^•'^- "^tl 
hcanl of Kang-n-npochr^-hilJ tL^'lf'^ "^.'^ '^''^^■^' "^•^•^• 
know Kailas. th,,uKev ha t '' I"^'"' 1!"'^ ^'^^"^^'^^--^ ^^ 
lifts up its hea.l xEfor" ""^'''" "■^'''■^' ''^^""t Blan, 

with the same fedin^ of r^^^^ approaches the mountair 

Kang kora, the Ganr'ri r.Vrlo aT ^'^"^"'i ^^^^^ track 

performed the- merit. iouslatr"n f""'^ ^^"''' ^' ^ad 
which consists in measu;^g th 1 n n h ^^^''''''7^"' 
length of the pilgrim's IxxK rw ''\^''^"'^>' ^^X the 
worth thirteen <!rJinarv%Sts on fo" a/^'^'T'^"^ '"^ 
was of no value at all' bccausr T u-oc -J- -. I"l«""iage 
sai<I; I must go on fa)t if I wi.h ? . ""^Z"^'' ^^' ''^^ '"^^ 
from it. ^ ^ '^ ' '"'''''"^ to derive any benefit 

lateJ'we" si: twoUn;Tm. ^^'"^' '^ ,^'-P" --e davs 

live.1 on the alms o th hithful 7^"^ u ^''^^ ^^'^ ^^ey 
•lays fn.m Tarchen o Dir , ,7 ^''? '^"^^ i" "i"<^ 

still eleven .lavs t.f fini"h^^\""'^ ''^'^'^^"^^ 
them for half an hour "^ .J.'^^ T'^' accompanic^d 

■ " "^^^ 'O ubbcrve iheir procedure. 

Li I 




■ I 






KOUM) KAXG-klM'ocnK 



consistfd (,f six movinnnfs. Supi)oso the vouriL' 
lama <.n the- path with his forclu-a.l hdd si « , v 
(i n an.I h.s arms hanKin^ l..<,sdy at his si.ks. (,) c 
plac.s the palms „ h.s toK.;hcr an<i raises thVm to 
he to, of h.s hca,l at the same time Umli,. - his hc^<| a 
tie .lown; (.) he hivs his hands un.ler his chin iftL« 
uj, h.s head apm; (,) h, kneels ujn.n the .rot.nd I n • 
forwards an.l lays himself full h-p.^h on thc^^ u nd >s"th 

•r is it ;^il ; ^5,^ he stretches his hand forwar'ls as 
Jar as it u.lj reach. an.I scratches a mark in the soil with i 
piece o which shows the line which n,ust U tou hed 

un wth hi h ; "^'^^ •"'^•^'"^^■; ='"'1 (^>) he raises himself 
up ^ith h.s hands, makes two „r three strides ur. to the 

r?un i T'' rr^' '^'' '''''' ^^■^'""^- ••^"•' thus 'he goes 
round the whole mountain. ^ 

the^lhll''*'r •""■'' ""•'/'''•" ''" ""' ''"^'•>-= thev perform 

he v^ hole business composure, but thev lose their 

breath especially on the wav up to the pass ' And on the 

UntiZt'r '" ^^•H'^^'^^^^ ar^ ;,ac:^"'!o"t^ 
n ■ of ,h ' ''■■"'""f '■ t'' '" ''^' ''"^^■' hca<i foremost'^ 

ound - nd wr' ""'"•'' '"\' "''■^•^''>' accomplished one 
round, and uas now on the secon.l. When he had 
fimshcl, m twelve days, he inten.Ied to Utake himself t 

theTs?-^of-hiri;'^' 'l^^rr ^'"'' '■^- ••-- --mi fo^ 

We whnfn ■^"'' ^V'='^ *'"'>■ t^^-^'^tv years old ! 

\\e, ^^ho in our superior wisdom at th. ^e exhibition 

o vn tiir"' r^ self mortification, ought to compa c our 
o«n faith and convictions with theirs. The lifj Ixyond 
the grave .s hidden from all peoples, but rel ' ous am 

3r ''[f ^r'"\'r ''"M '^'^^ amon;; dUTer nt 

S the chili f^*"''' '''^^'>'' ^'^"^ ""^'^'^ that 
nope, the chdd of heaven, points everv mortal with 

rot"'owr' ^"-''^ "'""" ''''^'^■' '^^'h'tcvcr m V 
t)e our own convictions, we must admire those who 

f^sIels'faTh"""^ ,'"'^ ""^'^ "^^>- '>^' - -^ opinion V 
ix)sstss faith enough to remove mountains. 

I!; ' 

(.).\! MAM I'MiMF. HUM. 



' xl 


is tlu 
is a 


I'ViTv form 


midst of whii h 

<malU-r iKailde-r. n.ntainin.i^ in a hollow (Impression a 

vtone like the cKft hoof of a wild vak. Wlun the 

l)ii;i s the la>t very steep zi.^/.at,' in thc_ 
•noi,.L; sharp or mund irrey boaldeis ot 

a eone of lilorks witli stei)s in it. 
, of a round wall of stone, in the 

faithful pili^rim i)asses this spot, he takes this stone, strikes 
it against the bottom of the- hollow, and turns it once round 
like'a i)estle. Conseciuentlv the hollow is being constantly 
(lee[)ened, and one day it will be lowered rij^ht throu^di the 

block. . , 

We mount up a rid.tjc with brooks ilowm.i:]; on both 
■^idc-^. On cverv rock, which has a top at all level, small 
stones are \n\vA up, and many of these pyramidal hea])s 
are packed so closelv that there is no room for another 
stone. Thanks to these cairns the pil-rim can Imd his 
way in snowstorm and fojj, though with(.ut them he could 
not easilv find it in sunshine. 

.\t length we see before us a gigantic boulder, its 
cubical cciiUents amounting perhaps to 7000 or 10,000 
cubic feet; it stands like an enormous milestone on the 
saddle of Dolmada, which attains the tremendous height 
n\ iS.;()() feet. On the top of the block smaller st.mcs 
are i)ile<l up into a pyramid supporting a ptole. and trom it.s 
rnd cords decorated 'with rags and streamers are stretched 
to o! !>oles fixed, in the ground. Horns and Ixjnes, 
chiellv shoulder-blades of sheej), are here deposited in large 

,c. 11 

en \r. ; II 



• li'intitkN-uifts ..f^r f. [hv i-ass. which is sui)p<)<nl 
to mark the halfwav point of the pilKrima^e. When tlu- 
nil-rim arrives here, he smears a Lit of laitter on the side 
(,f "the stone, iilucks out a loek of liis own hair and i)histers 
it into the butter. Tims he lias offered up some of him>ell 
;.nd some of his l)elon<;in^'s. Omseciuently the >tone 
iv^eml)les a huf^e wif^-bloek, from whieh black locks ot 
hiir tlutter in the wind. In time it would be comi)letely 
e.A-ered with Tibetan hair, were it not that the l<)cks 
,.cca>ionallv fall off and are blown away •'>',-''',?", 
T-rth are' stuck in all the chinks of the Dohna l)lock, 
forming wliole rosaries of human teeth. If you have a 
l,„)se tooth, dedicate it to the spirits of the pass. I serin^' 
unfortunately was to()tliless, or he wcjuld gladly have con- 
formec' to this regulation. ., . , , 

Ilfaps of rags lie all around, for the pilgrim has always 
a -pare .shre<l to hang on a string or lay at the foot of the 
block. Hut he not only gives, but also takes. Our old 
man took a rag from the heap and had a hirge fiuantuy ot 
such relics round his neck, for he had taken one from every 

cairn. . ,r • • -i i 

The view is grand, though Kailas itself is not visil)le. 
But one can see the sharp black ri.ige lying (luite . lose (m 
the south side with a mantle of snow and a hanging glacier, 
its blue margin vut off perpendicularly at the small moraine 
lake on the eastern side of the pass. 

While I s;it at the foot of the block, making observa- 
tions and drawing the panorama, a lama came strolling up 
leaning on his stick. He carried a book, a drum, a don he, 
and a bell, and likewise a .sickly-looking child in a basket 
on his back. The parents, nomads in the vallev below- 
had given him tsamha for two days to carry the child round 
the mountain, whcrebv it would recover its health. Many 
pilgrims gain their livelihood by such services, and some 
make the pilgrimage onlv for the benefit of others. 1 he 
lama with the child complained that he had only made the 
circuit of the mountain three times, and did not jjossess 
money enough to go round thirteen times. I gave him 

alms. , ^ 

Then he sat down on llic- pass, turneu n 



! \' 




direction where the summit of Kang-rinpochc was hidden, 
placed his hands together, and chanted an interminable 
succession of prayers. After this he went up to the block 
and laid his forehead on the ground — how many times I do 
not know, but he was still at it when we descended among 
lx)ulders to the tiny round lake Tso-kavala. Wc followed 
its northern shore, and our old friend told me that the ice 
never breaks up. 

Hut time slips away and we must hasten on. Wc walk, 
slide, and scramble down steep slopes where it would be 
easy to tumble down head over heels. The (jld man is 
sure-footed, and these slopes are old acquaintances. But 
woe betide him if he turned round and v.-cnt in the reverse 
direction. At length we reach the main valley, called in 
its ui)per part Tselung, and in its lower Lam-chyker. 
Through the large valley, which enters the main valley 
on the right side, and is called Kando-s;mglam, we now 
look eastwards upon the highest pinnacle of the summit of 
Kailas, which has a sharp edge towards the north-east, and 
still looks like a crystal. At two manis erected side by 
side we pass the border of the granite and the con- 
glomerate, which now appears again. The further we 
proceed the more numerous are the boulders of this kind 
of rock, while those of granite at length occur no more. 
We march south-west and bivouac on Mie roof of the 
monastery Tsumtul-pu. All day long, at all the cairns 
and all the resting-places, I have heanJ nothing but an 
endless murmur of the worils "Om mani padmc hum," 
and now, as long as I am awake, "Om mani padme 
hum" sounds in my ears from all nooks and corners. 

The temple had no other curiosity but a statue of Duk 
Ngavang Gyamtso, 5 feet high, sitting as at a writing- 
desk, two not very large elephant's tusks, and a five- 
branchetl chandelier from Lhasa. Our visit, therefore, did 
not last kng, and we rode dov.n the valley in which the 
river gradually increased in size. Here, too, manis and 
chhortens are erected, and at the end of the valley, where 
again numbers of granite boulders are accumulated, we 
see once more Langak-tso and the grand Gurla group. 

At larchen-iabrancj v,e reached the termination of the 

!i.. (1 

.'; ;. 'I nil I \\ Ti N I. 

M' IN \>i 1 u\ I IK ( ; \K i,r\- 1 

hi \'.i - \i (hi -in I. 



I I 




pilgrimage. Here twenty-three tents were pitched, and 
we received the gi test attention, were refreshed with 
milk and chang, and rested two hours. Then we left the 
ilgrim road to the right, and came into sight of the fourth 
monastery, perched high up on a terrace in the valley below 
the holy peak. A curious local wind at the north-west 
corner of Langak-tso raised up clouds of dust like the 
smoke of a burning town. A short while after, we lay 
peacefully among our men in the camp on the Khaleb 

By this pilgrimage round the holy mountain, which I 
had been able to accomplish by an unexpected lucky 
chance, I had gained an insight into the religious life of 
the Tibetans. It had also been, as it were, a revisal 
of all the experiences I had already collected in this 

Our knowledge of Til)et is still defective, and some 
future traveller will find sulTicient material to show on a 
map of the whole Lamaistic world all the great pilgrim 
routes to innumerable sanctuaries. On such a map numerous 
roads would converge, like the spokes of a wheel, to 
Da Kuren, the temple of Maidari in Urga. Still closer 
would the rays from every inhabited spot of the 
territory of run together to their chief focus, 
Lhasa. Somewhat less thickly they would unite at 
Tashi-lunpo. Innumerable winding roads and paths 
would start from the farthest border countries of Tilx?t, all 
tending towards the holy Kailas. We know that they 
exist, and no great imagination is required to conceive 
how they would look on a map. But it is with the routes 
of pilgrims just as with the flight of the wild-geese: we 
know nothing of their precise course. Besides, among 
the principal foci are scattered a numlx;r of smaller 
centres whence radii diverge to a sanctuary, a lake, or a 
spring, and from the heart of all these wind-roses peals out 
a cry to the faithful, similar to the exhortation of Isaiah: 
"Look upon Zion, the city of our solemnities: thine eyes 
shall see Jerusalem" (Isa. xxxiii. 20). 

In the ears of the Tibetan -another saving rings^ the 
mystical formula "Om mani padme hum," not only on his 




' f'l 



wanderings to the goal nl his pilf^Timagc, 1)Ut throughout 
his life. Concerning this Waddell makes, among others, 
the following remarks: "Om-mani i)a(l-me Hum, which 
literallv means '()»/.' The Jewel in the lotus I' I f I'tni ! -is 
addressed to the Bodhisat Tadmaidni, who is represented 
like Ikiddha as seated or >tanding within a lotus llower. 
He is the patron-god of Tiljet and the controller of 
metempsychosis. And no wonder tliis formula is so 
popular and constantly rei)eated hy lx)th Lamas and laity, 
for its mere utterance is believed to .stop the cycle t>f 
re l)irlhs and to convey the reciter directly to 
Thus it is .stated in the Mani kah-hum with extravagant 
rhai)s()dy that this formula 'is the es.scnce of all happiness, 
prosperi'tv, and knowledge, and the great mc:ins of cle- 
li'-erance",' for tlie Om closes re-lnrdi amongst the gods, 
via among the Tilrns, iii as a man, pud as a beast, mc as 
a Tantalus, and Hfint as an inhabitant of hell. And in 
keeping with this view each of si.x syllables is given 
the distinctive colour of these si.x .states of re-birth, 
namely. 0>», the godly li'liitc; ma, the Titanic blue; ni, the 
human VwV.n.',- pad, the animal ,(;m'» ,• mc, the 'Tantalic' 
nd; an.i Hum, the hellish black'' (The Buddhism 0} Tibet, 

{)p. 148-9). 

Koppen and Griinwcdcl translate the four words: 
"(), Jewel in the lotus-flower, Amen." 

Wherever one turns in Tibet, he sees the six sacrefl 
ch;.racters engraved or chiselled out, and hears them 
rei)eated everywhere. They are found in evt-ry temple in 
hundreds of thou.-ands of copies, nay, in mi'lions, for in 
tlie great prayer mills they arc stamped in fine letters on 
thin pa])er. On the monastery roofs, on the r(K)fs of 
private houses, and on the black tents, they are inscribed 
on the lluttering streamers. On all the roads we ride 
dailv past wall-like stone cists covered with slabs, on which 
the formula 'Om mani padmc hum" is carved. Seldom 
does the most lonely path lead up to a pass where no 
cairn is erected to remind the wanderer of his dependence 
all his life long on the inllucnce of good and bad jspirits. 
.\nd on the top of every such Uialu (jr liiad.u' is fixed a 
pole or a stick with streamers, every one proclaiming in 

I ' 



l)laik IrttiTs the eternal truth. At j)r()jectinfi rotks 
iul)it'al (hhortrns or Ihatos staiid beside the road in red and 
white. On the .Mcles of j^'ranite rocks polished >mooth hy 
wind and weather fif^ures of Hudilha are fre<|Uently eut, 
and below them, as well as on fallen boulders, ean be read 
in gigantic characters "()m niani padme hum." On the 
piers between which chain bridges arc stretche<l over the 
'r>angp<) (jr other rivers, heaps of stones are jiiled uj), and 
on all these innumerable votive cairns lie yak skulls and 
crania of wild sheej) and anteloi)es. Into the horns and 
the bleached frontal Ijones of the yak the sacred formula is 
(Ut, and the incised characters are fined in with red or some 
other holy colour. We find them again in innumerable 
c(>i)ies and in many forms, especially on the high roads 
which lead to temples and ])ilgrims' resorts, as well as at 
all places where there is danger, as on mountain i)asses 
and river fords. And even the ferry boats of hide are 
chcorated with bles.sed streamers. 

In every caravan one man at least, and usually several, 
has a prayer mill in his hand. This is rotated by means 
of a weight round the axle of the handle, and is .stulTed 
full of jHiper strips bearing the hcjly formula in many 
thousiinds of impressions. All day long, whatever the 
duration of the journey, the believer turns his prayer mill 
and babbles in chanting tones 'Om mani jjaclme hum." 
The militia who are called out to catch a rol)ber band have 
on their ride more confidence in their prayer mills than in 
their guns and sidjres, and, siid to say, there are some 
even among the robbers who rattle c)tT their Om and Hum 
in order to make their escape. Among the escorts which 
accompanied me on various occasions there were always 
one or two horsemen armed with a mani machine. Onv 
always .sees this convenient praying instrument in the 
hands of the people one meets. The herdsman murmurs 
the si.x syllables beside his herd, his wife when milking 
the sheep, the merchant as he gcu's to market, the hunter 
as he .stalks the wild yak on untrodden paths, the nomad 
when he sets out to move his tent to another pasture, the 
artizan as he bends over his work. With these worfls the 
Tibetan begins his day, and with them on his tongue he 


It) ' 

! I 




CHAP. 1. 1 1 

lies down to rest. Tlu' Om and Hum arc not only the 
Alpha and Omcj^a of the day, but of his whole life. 

The mystic words rang constantly in my cars. I heard 
them when the sun ro>t and when I blew out my light, 
and I did not escape tiiem even in the wilderness, for my 
own men murmured "Om mani padme hum." They 
belong to Tibet, these words; they are in.separable from it: 
I cannot imagine the snow-cappecl mountains and the blue 
lakes without them. They are as do.sely connected with 
this country as buzzing with the bee-hive, as the flutter of 
.streamers with the pass, as the ceaseless west wind with 
its howling. 

The life of the Tibetan from the cradle to the grave is 
interwoven with a multitude of religious precepts and 
cu.stoms. It is his duty to contribute his mite to the 
maintenance of the monasteries and to the Peter's j)ence 
of the temples. When he passes a votive cairn he adds a 
stone to the pile as an olTering; when he rides by a mani, 
he never forgets to guide his steed to the left of it; when 
he sees a holy mountain, he never omits to lay his forehead 
on the ground in homage; in all important undertakings 
he must, for the sake of his eternal salvation, seek the 
advice of monks learnetl in the law; when a mendicant 
lama comes to his door he never to give him a 
handful of Isiimba or a lump of butter; when he makes the 
round of the temple halls, he adds his contribution to the 
collection in the votive bowls; and when he saddles his 
horse or loads a yak, he again hums the everlasting "Om 
mani padme hum." 

More frequently than an Ave Maria or a Paternoster 
in the Catholic world, "Om mani padme hum" forms an 
accompaniment to the life and wanderings of humanity 
ovc- half Asia. The boundless vista opened out by the 
six holy syllables is thus expressed by Edwin Arnold in 
the concluding lines of his poem. The Light of Asia: 

The dew is on the lotus. Rise, Great Sun ! 
And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. 
Om mani padme hum, the sunrise comes. 
The dewdrop slips into the shining sea. 

2;ii. 'I'm. I'm 1(1 Ml \ H'''\i Mmh. 


277. Mn Hum MS ill! |^■l.l■^ 


27N ; \li\KI WoMKS-. 






: I-, 

i I 



Immi.diatki.y on my arrival in Khakh I told tlu- old gova, 
who had the hopi-k-ss and thankless task of watching my 
prori'i'dinj^s, that I now intended to lake the n ad past 
Sinf^i-kabab, or the source of the Indus. 

"If you go thither, Bombo," he answered, "I shall 
at once send a courier to the Garpuns, the two chiefs in 

"I do not think that the Garpuns will have any 
objection to my taking a more northerly route." 

"Oh yes, the (larpuns received orders from Lhasa five 
days ago to watch carefully that you followed no other 
way but the great high-road to (lartok. The (]ar|)uns 
straightway sent couriers to twelve dilTerent ])laces — 
Parka, Mis.scr, Purang, Singtcxl, and others — to make it 
kn(nvn that you were not {x-rmitted to travel on byroads. 
If this letter had not reached me, I would willingly have 
let vou march northwards, but now I dare not for mv own 
s;ike." 7 

"What would you do if I quietly disappeared one 
night '■' I can buy yak? in Tarchen, and then I shall not 
be dependent on those I have from you." 

"Yes, of course. A man lives in Tarchen who has 
sixty yaks, and will sell them as soon as he sees silver 
money. Hut I shall at once send word to the Garj)uns, 
and they will send men after you and force you to come 
back. To buy yaks would therefore be useless waste of 
money. Iluwcui, if you like to let i; •.■ main part of 
your caravan follow the high-road, arid make yourself an 




( II \i- 

,.vurM..n uf ;i .miii,K- of -l.iv. nurthwanU to the Sm.ui- 
ki.lul. .in.l th.n join vour .,ir,i\,in .i-ain, I uill |.ul no 
ol.stadc. in v.ur w.iv. lUil >ou .lo it at y.^ur own ri^k 
and you uill (ntainly In- laii-lit IhIoh- you rtaili 
the ^.)ur^^• of ttu Imlu-." 

I Nva. as nuidi a^tonishcl a. <li li^'htt .1 l.y thi. ^u-LIm 

(han^c in tlu' of the -ova. aiul airaiv^ni uUli 

kolnrt that iu- should Lad liir main .aia\an in wry 

short ilav's manhi> to (lartok. while 1 made as rapidly as 

I.)ssihlc 'for tin- suunr of tin- Indus. 1 took only as many 

tilings as a small liatli.rii trunk would (ontain, and as 

cnmiKmioMs onlv live nun, anioni; tlum Kal-san^^ as mtcT^ 

prctiT and Adul as cook, with our own six animals and 

Ihnr d-.^s, onr of whi. h. a new pun hasc. ran away on 

thf first day. 1 had Kol.rrt's small tent, and our arsenal 

consisted of two -uns and a revolver, for rohluTs were 

Slid to nuda- the tountrv vi-rv un--,ife. I <ould not tmd a but on th.' wav t.. Diri l-u, where I eiuamped onre 

more I came an old man from Tok jalun.i,', wiio 

wished to make the round of Kailas thirteen times, ari( 

jrave me mu( h v.duaMe inforiuation. liul no money could 

induce him to accompany us t"arther. 

On the Sth we conlinutd our way through the valley that 
runs north northeastwards from Diri lai to the Tselila. 
The stream, divided int(. arms, was covered in the 
ni<'ht hy a thin coalin;^ of iie, smooth as i^lass, where the 
water had run off, but it di.sapi)eared when day came. 
The valley is broad, and the showed trace, ot con 
siderable 'traffic, thouj^h we did not meet a soul. 1 he 
marmots whistled in front of their holes; the summer 
would soon be over for them. KanK-nnp"che can l)e seen 
from many places, and here pil.i^rims from the north have 
piled ui)' cairns. (Granite predominates everywhere, but 
crystalline schists occur here and there. We followed the 
fresh tracks of three horsemen. The gradient became 
steeper and the scenery assumed more of an alijmc 
character. We mounted up amont; hui^e C(tnes of detritus 
with bdiblinL' brooks of melted snow to the pass, which 
lay at a height of 18.405 f^'^'t- It^ l)lateau is smguiariy Hat. 
On its northern side camp Xo. 234 was pitched. 


■I UK sorKcr. ov iiik indus 


In till- cvcnini; Rabsant; rcpK)rtf(| that our fucl- 
patlicnrs liad luard \vliistlr>, aricl that thoc si),'nals had 
Ikih an-iuiTcd from the othi-r ^idc. The men l)clirvc'd 
thai thi re wvrv rulilKTs htrc, and i\'\'\ not dart- to sit 
oul>id( 1)V the fire Ifst they should Ik- ^jood marks for sliots 
out of an amhush. I (juictid thrni with thi" assuranrt- 
thai no rolihiT would Miitun- to attack a Kuropcan, but 
^'avi- ordtTs to thi- wati hnian to ktrp an ivi' on our 

I'hf ni,t,'ht passi-d (|ui(tly and the minimum tcmprra- 
turc went down to i6.j''; autumn was come a).;ain into 
<lrrary lilK't. I h:id -upiioxcd that the 'I'stti la was the 
pass on the main (li\idf. but we had not K"'"'' f'l"" when we 
saw its brook, which llowcd northwards, make a iK'iid to 
the wiM, and disceml throu^'h a welldetined valli-y to 
the hunuhuiL,'. It tluri'fore belon,t;s to the catchment 
ba^in of tlie Sutlej and not to the Indus, and the Tseti la 
is a |las■^ of secondary order. Hut we soon reached the 
adual pass, an e.\trenuly tlat threshold. Here lies a small 
muddy lake draimd t)y a brook issuing from its eastern 
side, whi( h wi' followid all day. This pass is the Tseti- 
laihen la, and it is a water partini,' U'twei'n the Sutlej and 
tin- Iivl'is. Its 111 i'^'ht is k'-s tlian that of the Tseti la, for 
it is only 17.0,1.1 feet; it lies on the main chain of the Trans- 
Ilimalaya. Kailas, thiTefore, lies a ^ood day's journey 
south of the watershed of the two rivers, and Ijelongs 
entirely to the basin of tlie Sutlej. 

From the lake we follow the little afilucnt of the Indus 
north', ards. The ground is marshy and rough. Here 
and tlure arc seen three hearthstones. .\ dead horse lies 
amoni; the lu.xuriant <^rd<->. It is sinj^'ular that no nomads 
are encamped here. At lenj^nh we see at a far distance 
quite down in the valley men going downstream with 
large flocks of shee[). Tundup Sonam and Ishc arc sent after 
them, and by degrees the rest of us come up with the 
party. They arc nomads from Gertse, who have taken 
salt to Gyanima and a'-e now transporting barley on their 
500 sheep. All the valley is dotted over with white 
sheej), which trip along actively, [clucking the grass as 
they go. In front of us rises a steep purple mountain 

VOL. ri p 

I I 

<•: i 






chain, and along the flank tur: <1 towards us the Indus is 
said to flow. We joined the men of the sheep caravan 
and camped together ith them. There were five of 
them, all armed with guns, and they said that the district 
was frequently haunted by robbers, who at times seemed 
to vanish altogether, and then suddenly came down like a 
whirlwind, and no one knew whence they came. 

Our camping-ground on the bank of the Indus (i 6,66,^ 
feet) is called Singi-buk. Eastwards the valley is broad 
and open, but the Indus itself is here an insignificant 
stream. I wa. therefore not astonished when I heard that 
it was onlv c short day's journey to the source, which, I 
was told, does not proceed from snow or a glaoer, but 
springs up out of the ground. The men called the river 
the Singi-tsangjK), or Singi-kamba, and the source itself 
Singi-kabab, though we afterwards heard the word pro- 
nounced Scnge more freciuently than Singi. 

It turned out that one of the five men knew all about 
us. He was a brother of the Lobsang Tsering on Uie 
Dungtse-tso who had sold us three yaks the winter before 
(see Chapter XV.). It was a singular chance that we 
should fall in with him. He said he had heard how well 
we had treated his brother, and offered us his services — for 
a good reward, of course. As he had travelled several 
times through this region, quite unknown to Europeans, 
and was acfiuainted with all the passes, roads, and valleys, 
I thought he would be very valuable to me, and I jjroposed 
to give him 7 rupees a day, that is about half a month's 
pay of one of my Ladakis. Of course he accepted the terms 
at once and soon became our intimate friend. 

But these busin ss matters were not yet settled. The 
man had a quantity of sheep and barley. He consented 
to let us eight sheep on hire, and sell us their loads, which 
would last our horses for a week. He was to receive a 
rupee for the hire of each sheep, which was high, for a 
sheep is worth only 2 to 3 rupees. The old man would 
therefore receive 18 rupees every evening as long as he 
was with us; but it was cheap after all, for the discovery 
of the ^ourri- of the Indus was involved. 

The large sheep-caravan had already started on Sep- 



?«k;':.;^U "j;-- - 'r:trr:-' i-->;^'^; 





^^ m I ~4^^^^^^^^^^l 




bi f 

h ' 

i I 

I . 

.«, 1 

I \ 



:, If' 


I I 





tcmbcr lo, when wo, with our new guide, whose own tsamba 
was carried on a ninth sheeo, followed m its track. After 
an hour's march we crossed a tributary, the Lungdcp-chu 
which comes from a valley in the south-east, with fiattish 
mountains in the background. 

A little farther up the Singi-kamba expands into a basin 
containing an abundance of medium-sized fish. As we 
passed, the fish were darting upstream in compact shoals, 
and passed a very shallow place with slight swirls. Here 
Rabsang attacked them, but all his catch was only one 
small miserable fish. Then wc threw up a dam by the 
bank, with an opening on one side, and the men went into 
the water and drove in the f\sh with shouts and splashing 
Then the entrance was built up. After wc had repeated 
this diversion three times, we had procured thirty-seven 
fine f^sh, and I was eager for my dinner, which I usually 
looked forward to with some loathing, for the hard dried 
mutton had become thoroughly distasteful to me. Our old 
man, who sat and watched us, thought that we had taken 
k-ave of our senses. Farther up, the fish were so crowded 
in ?. quiet pool that they made the water seem almost black 
with their dark backs. i i r 

We rode up the valley, leaving on o"r right a red, ioat- 
shaped mountain called Lungdep-ningri. Opposite, on 
the northern side of the valley, were seen two fine Ovis 
Ammon sheep feeding on a conical elevation. They bore 
splendid horns, and carried their heads royally. They 
so(>n perceived us, and made slowly up the slope. But 
they paifl too much attention to our movements, and did 
not notice that Tundup Sonam, with his gun on his back, 
was making a detour to stalk them from the other side of 
the hill After a while we heard a shot, and a good hour 
later, when the camp was pitched, Tundup came back laden 
with as much of the flesh of his victim as he could carry. 
Thus we obtained a fresh addition to ou- omewhat scanty 
rations, and Tundup's exploit enhanced the glory of this 
memorable dav. In the evening he went ofT again to fetch 
more meat, and he brought me the head of the wild sheep, 
v.'-ich I wished to nrcserve as a memento of the day at the 
source of the Indus. 



L^: I 

i \ 

'•1 : 


The ground rises e.xcee(lin<^Iy slowly. Singi-ylira is a 
rugged cliff to the north, with a large hole through its 
summit. Singi-chava is the name of a commanding emi- 
nence to the south. Then we wade tlirough the outtlow 
of the Munjam valley running in from the south-east. 
Above this the Indus is only a tiny brook, and part of its 
water comes from a valley in tlie south ea^t, the Bokar. 
A little later wc camp at the aperture of the spring, which 
is so well concealed that it might easily Ix.- overlooked 
without a guide. 

From the mountains on the northern side a flattish 
cone of detritus, or, more correctly, a slope bestrewn with 
rubbish, descends to the level, oi)en valley. At its foot 
projects a slab of white rock with an almost horizontal 
bedding, underneath which several small springs well uj) 
out of the ground, forming weedy ponds and the sourcj 
stream, which we had traced upwards, and which is the 
first and uppermost of the heaflwaters of the mighty Indus. 
The four largest springs, where they issued from the 
ground, had temperatures of 48.6°, 49.1°, 49-^>°. and 50.4° 
respectively. They arc said to emit the same ([uantity ()f 
water in winter and summer, but a little more after rainy 
seasons. Up on the slab of rock stand three tall cairns 
and a small cubical lltato containing votive pyramids of clay. 
And below the Ihato is a ([uadrangular >«</»/, with hundreds 
of red flagstones, some covered with fine close inscrii)tians, 
some bearing a single character 20 inches high. On two 
the wheel of life was incised, and on another a divine 
image, which I carried off as a souvenir of the source of 
the Indus. 

Our guide said that the source Singi-kabab was 
reverenced because of its divine origin. When travellers 
reached this place or any other part of the upper Indus, 
they scooped up water with their hands, drank of it, and 
sprinkled their faces anil heads wit', it. 

Through the investigations made by Montgomerie's 
pundits in the year 1867 it was known that the eastern 
arm of the Indus is the actual headwater, and I had after- 
wards an opportunity of proving by nieabUrernciil that the 
western, Gartok, stream is considerably smaller. But no 







|! \ 




pundit had succtrdod in penetrating to the source, and 
the one who had advanced nearest to it, namely, to a point 
30 miles from it, had been attacked by robbers and 
forced to turn back. Conse(|UentIy, until our time the 
erroneous o[)inion jja-vailed that the Indus had its source 
on the north Hank of Kailas, and, thanks to those admirable 
robbers, the discovery of the Indus source was reserved 
for me and my five Ladakis. 

We passed a memoraljle evening and a memorable 
night at this imjxirtant geograph'cal s|K)t, situated 16,946 
feet alcove sea-level. Here I stood and saw the Indus 
emerge from the lap of the earth. Here I stood and saw 
this unpretenti(jus brook wind down the valley, and I 
thought of all the changes it must undergo, before it 
j)asses between rocky clitTs, singing its roaring song in 
ever more i)owerful crescendo, down to the sea at Karachi, 
where steamers load and unload their cargoes. I thought 
of its restless course through western Tibet, through 
Ladak and Haltistan, i)ast Skardu, where the apricot trees 
nf)d on its banks, through Dardistan and Kohistan, past 
Peshawar, and across the plains of the western Panjab, 
until at last it is swallowed u|) by the salt waves of the 
ocean, the Nirvana and the refuge of all weary rivers. 
Here I stood and wondered whether the Macedonian 
Alexander, when he crossed the Indus 2200 years ago, 
had any notion where its source lay, and I revelled in the 
consciousness that, except the Tibetans themselves, no 
other human Ix'ing but myself had penetrated to this sf)ot. 
Great obstacles had been ])laced in my way, but Providence 
had secured for me the triumph of reaching the actual 
sources of the Brahmai)utra and Indus, and ascertaining 
the origin of these two historical rivers, which, like the 
claws of a crab, grip the highest of all the mountain 
systems of the world — the Himalayas. Their waters are 
l)orn in the reservoirs of the firmament, and they roll 
down their floods to the lowlands to yield life and suste- 
nance to fifty millions of human Ix'ings. Up here white 
monasteries stand peacefully on their banks, while in India 
p.'igdd.T; ,infl moc.nuf"; are reilertofl in their w.Ttcrs; uri 
liere wolves, wild yaks, and wiUl sheep roam about their 


-Mr"- , 

I • 

i'' ' 



i \ 


cnAP. Ill 


vallcvs while down k-low in India the eyes of timers and 
leopards shine like -\inun<^ coals <.f fire from the jungles 
that skirt their banks, and poisonous snakes wnggic 
throuL'h the dense brushwood. Here in dreary Iibct 
lev storms and cold snowfalls lash their waves, whdc 
down in the flat country mild breezes whisper m the 
I Towns of the palms and mango trees. I seemed to listen 
here to the beating of the pulses of these two renowned 
rivers to watch the industry and rivalry which through 
untold generations, have occupie.l unnumbered human 
lives short and transitory as the life of the midge and 
the <'rass; all those wanderers on the earth and guests 
in the abodes of time, who have been l)orn beside the 
fleeting current of these rivers, have drunk of their 
waters have flrawn from them life ind strength for their 
fields have lived an<l died on their banks, and have risen 
from ' the sheltered freedom of their valleys up to the 
realms of eternal hope. Not without pride, but still with 
a feelin" of humble thankfulness, I stood there, con- 
scious that I was the first white man who had ever 
penetrated to the sources of the Indus and Brahmaputra. 






From the source of the Indus wc travelled on north-east- 
wards with our friendly ^'uide to a locality (ailed Vumha- 
matsen, which lies in lat. 32° X. And thence I lutook 
nivself to Gartok, the chief town of western Tibet and the 
residence of the two (iarpuns. where I arrived after many 
adventures on September 26, having cros^eil tiie Trans- 
Himalaya for the fifth time l)y the Jukti-la (ig,iii feet hi^h). 
I mu^t, alas! omit a description of this journey for the 
present, thouf^h it passed for the most part thnnij^h 
unknown country. >Ir. Calvert crossed over the Jukli la 
two years Ix'fore. 

In Gartok (14,656 feet) a new period bcpan. This town 
is a turning-point in the chronicles of my journey. In the 
first place, I again came into contact with the outer world. 
Thakur Jai Chand, the British commercial agent, handed 
me immediately on my arrival a thick packet of letters, 
including a (juantity from my dear home, and others 
from Lord and Lady Minto and their daughters, from Colonel 
Dunlop Smith, Vounghusband, O'Connor, Rawling, and 
many other friends in Euiope and .Asia. Nothing, how- 
ever, was heard of the heavy consignment I ex])ecte(l from 
Simla. Hut .soon afterwards I hcar:l from Dunloj) Smith 
that all I had ordered was on the way and would arrive in 
due cour.-^e, and meantime I had to wait in patience. 

The Garpuns at once .sent me pre^.Jnts as a token of 
welcome, with the usual polite i>hrases. They were of too 
grc.'.t irnpnrt.''.nrf' {n \-\^.\t me first ~^ rscxt A-iv I "•(■nt to 
them. The elder was ill ; the youu^er, a gentleman from 




I. '' I 

^1 ; 




'! ' 1 

I.h;is;i, tliirty-fivc years <.f a^'c and of distinj^ii^hcfl ai)i)car- 
[uu\\ ri'divid nu' m(»^l Kmlially in his sim|)k' (lovcnimcnt 
hiiildiiiK'^. atv' was so little aii^^ry at the litterties I had 
recently taken that he did not even ask me where I had 
been. It was an irony of fate thai a letter in most friendly 
terms and mo>t lilaral in its (oneessions. which I now 
received from I.ien Darin by the hand of the (larpun. had 
not reaclu'd me until it was too late. When Lic'n Darin 
reieivid my letter from Raj^a-tasam, he immediately sent 
off two Chinamen fully authorized to come to an a},'reement 
with me aljout the route 1 was to take. "For I shall he 
f,'lad to know," .said the Amhan of Lhasa, "that you are 
travellini^ by the road that suits you." He was (juite con- 
vinced that my movements, whichever way I took, would 
give no tausc for ]>oliti(al complications. \n(| he con- 
cluded with the words: "Now. I hope that .lU will have a 
successful and ])eaceful journey, and I will pray for your 
health and i)rosptTity." 

How I re,L,'rette<l now that I had not .stayed in Saka, 
and .so much the more when the (larpun told me that the 
two Chinamen had arrive<l with an escort of four 'rii)etans 
only two weeks after we had left ! Hut the (iarpun was 
frie'ndlv dispo.sed towards me; he was the most powerful 
man in western Tibet, and could still tiirow oj)en all doors 
for me, if he dared and was willing to do so. 

I was, indeed, pleased and thankful for the results 
which I had already been able to .secure. Besides many 
other problems that had been solved, I had crossed the 
Trans-llimalava by live pa.sses, namely, the Sela-la, Chang- 
la-l'od la, Angden-ia, Tseti lachen la, and Juktida, of which 
the first four had been entirely unknown. lUit between 
the Angden la and the T.seti lachen la I had been obliged 
to leave a gap of (juite 330 miles in the exploration of the 
Trans-Himalava. Of this region nothing was known but 
the summits Rydi-r had seen from his route, and which he 
and Wood had' measured by observation. We pos- 
sessed some uncertain statements of Xain Sing's journey 
in 187.^ but his route lay to the north of the blank patch, 
and this blank represented an area of s.soo st|uare miles. 
I could not return home without having done all that was 







1. .'i 

p > 


~» r "V" 

A Ki;S()LLTI()N' 


humanly i)<)ssi!)lc to tr.ivcrx' thr unknown country by at 
liast onr route. IVciixly tlurc was tin- linr forminj,' 
tin- watir h«(l iHtwctii tlif Indian Ocean and tlir inland 
ilraina^^i- i>\ tin- >alt lakt^ on (iu- TilHlan plateau. 'I'lirre 
many lakt-s an<l rivers mi^lit he ixpeeted to txi^t. and 
there lay the lar^e |trovinre of I{oni.;l)a, of whi( h so 
many ha/y reports lia<l reached our ears from it-> northern, 
eastern, and southern Ixiundaries. lUit the i^'natest and imjMirtant iriestion of all was: Does the Xiiiichen- 
tan}4 la run rij^'ht throU[,'h 'I'ihet in a westerly and nortli- 
westerly direction to the nortii of the 'r>an,L,'po and the 
Upper Indus? N'o I-iuropean and no jiundit had iiitherto 
ventured on this problem; but lIcHl^json, Saunders, and 
Atkinson hail many years before laid dcnvn a hypothetical 
ran>^'e on their maps of Tibet. Did it actually e.xist? Or 
wa^ a labyrinth of ranf^es hidden under the white space-, or 
a comparatively flat phitcau, on which foundation isolated 
snowy j)eaks and chains were based? Hypotheses are 
aljsolutely worthless comijared to proved facts. Such facts 
1 would procure. I knew that if I did not succeed now in 
iK'nctratini; into the country which on the latest Kng- 
lish ma]) of Tibet (i(;o6, ^lap i) bears only the word 
"I'ne.xplored," one fine day another explorer wouM come 
and rolj me of this triumph. And this thought I could not 

In (iartok my old friend from Leh, the rich merchant 
Oulam Ra/ul, was stayinj,' (Illustration 272). 1 consulted 
him, and he was to be my delivering,' angel. He touk a very 
sanguine view of our jx^sition, for the (iar|)un owed him 
7000 rupees for goods c lei ivered, and feared his intluence; he 
could therefore put prc.s.surc on the Viceroy of western Tibet. 
He first tried .stratagem, which, hcnvever, ccjmpletely failed, 
for the Garpun replied he was tcx) fond of his head to 
e.x[)ose it to risk by a,s.sisting a European who had no per- 
mission to travel alH)Ut the country. Then we tried gold, 
but the Garpun answered most theatrically: "If this house 
were of gold and you otTerod it to me I would mA take it. 
If you travel on forbidden roads I will send armed men 
after you who will force you to return hither." 

lie was incorruptible, and he wa^. too strong for us. 

i i 





■, !;i - 

Hi)\v sorry I was now that I had not proceeded eastwards 
whin 1 was in enjoyment of complete freedom at the source 
of thi' Inchis and in Vumha-matsen ! Hut no, that was 
impossible, for my ca-h box was then not full enough, I 
had only five men with me, and I could not have left the 
rest of my caravan to their own devices. 

What if I went down into Nepal and came hack aj,'ain 
into Tibet by un,t,'uarded roads? Xo, that wcjuld not do, 
for snf)W would soon close the Himalayan passes. And if 
we tried tf) slink fo Rudok and thence make east- 
wards? Xo. Rudok swarmed with :,pies. And soon 
Ciulum Ra/.ul learned also that the (larpun had sent orders 
throughout his territory to .stop me in I attempted to 
travel even to Ladak by any other than the main high-road. 
Thus wr planned this 'and that, and mused day and 
night, soiiK'times in my tent, ometimes in (julam Razul's, 
and wailed for the consignment from Simla, heard bells 
jingle when couriers came from the east, .saw one merchant 
after another return from the fair in Lhasa, met the serpiin 
or gold commissioner who came from Tok-jalung, and felt 
the cold of autumn cut our skins more sharply as the 
thermometer fell to — ii°. 

Then in lonely hours I came to the resolution to return 
to Ladak and thence, as in the year before, penetrate into 
Til)et from the north, traverse the whole country once 
more, and cross the blank space. 1 knew very well that 
by this roundabout way it would take half a yea^r to reach 
districts situated only a month's journey from Gartok. A 
new caravan would be necessary, new dangers and adven- 
tures awaited us, and winter was before us with its Arctic 
cold. iUit it must be done in .spite of everything. I would 
not turn back until the obstacles in my way became quite 
insuperable. To enter Ladak, a country under British 
protection, was a ri.>,k, and therefore I must make all haste 
to cross the frontier again. I could not avoid Rawling's 
anil Dtasv's country, Init what did it matter? My aim 
was the unknown region, which I would try to explore by 
some route or other. 

(;,j!;,..-.i K:ivi!i and Robert were the only ones who were 
initiated into my new plans, for in them I juld place the 


,»■' ! 





blindest confidence. During our conferences we spoke in 
Persian, and Robert kci)t a wattli that no eavesdropper 
came near my tent. Gulam Razul undertook to get 
together the new caravan from Lch, and it was to reach 
at a certain time Drugub, where I meant to dismiss my 
last thirteen men ; they were worn-out and longed to get 
home. Oulam Razul undertook the responsibility of finding 
me fresh men. 

On October 20 we left Gartok to await in Gar-gunsa 
the arrival of the consignment from India. Gulam Razul, 
Thakur Jai Chand, the postmaster Deni Das, and the 
doctor Mohanlal, also moved thither. Robert had heard 
in Gartok the siid news that his eider brother had died in 
Further India, and now he received a fresh blow, for his 
little brother, ten years old, had been drowned in Srinagar. 
He was inconsolable, and begged me to let him go home 
to his mother, who had now only one son left. So I was 
to lose him also. 

Gulam Razul had three large tents within his fence of 
boughs (Illustratiim 254). There he sat like a pasha on his 
divan, smoked a large .silver narghile, and received his guests 
with Oriental dignity. He was jov and agreeable, under- 
took to do everything, and though i nothing of flitTiculties. 
There we made our plans and long lists of thing- > be bought, 
and as my arrival in Ladak could not be kej)! secret for long, 
we spread the report that I wanted a new caravan for a 
journey to Khotan, and that I intended to travel to Pekin 
in the spring. For the success of the plan it was essential 
that no one should have any suspicion of my real inten- 
tions; for in that case, especial orders would be .sent to 
Rudok and to the nomads. My own .servants and all 
Hajji Xazcr Shah's household believed therefore that it 
was my .settled purpose to go to Khotan, and that I had 
given up all thoughts of Tibet. I even went so far as to 
send a telegram from Drugub to Reutcr's correspondent 
in India, my friend Mr. Buck, with the information that 
I was about to make a short journey to Khotan. The 
object was to mi.slcad the mandarins. If no one else 
would help me, I must help my.self, and, if necessary, with 
cunning and trickery. None of my Indian friends 





ii \ 

• h! 


11 ' 

■l:i'l I 

have any suspicion of my real plans, not even Colonel 
I)unlo[) Smith; it would, of course, be silly to put them in 
a i)(,sition where they must either Ix-tray me or be disloyal 
to their own superiors. Except Gulam Razul and Robert, 
only my j)arents and sisters were let into the secret. But, 
unfortunately, I had given them a far too optimistic 
estimate of the length of my nterprise, and therefore 
when they heard no news they became day by day more 
uneasy, and at last came to the conclusion that I had come 
to grief (Illustration 234). 

On OctolKT 29, 1907, Gulam Razul's mules arrived, 
and were subjected to a thorough inspection. They were 
in splendid condition — small, sturdy, and sleek animals 
from Lhasa, accustomed to rarefied air, and, according to 
the owner, capable of enduring hardships of every kind. 
Gulam Razul even olTercd to buy them back at the price 
I paid, if they returned alive. I paid for all the twenty 
1780 rupees. I still i)ossessed five of my own animals, 
after a small white mule had been torn to pieces by wolves 
in (Jartok. A whole i)ack had attacked our last six 
animals, the camp watchman had bc:'n unable to drive the 
wolves away, and the mule had been horribly wounded. 
He had been seen running tx^fore the wolves with his 
entrails trailing on the ground. The last mule from 
Poonch still survived, as well as my little Ladaki grey and 
one of his fellows, the veterans of Leh. 

Gulam Razul also undertook to procure for me fifteen 
excellent horses from Ladak at a price of 1500 rupees. 
The other purchases consisted of: barley for the animals, 
60 rupees; rice, 70 rupes; tsamha, 125 rupees; provender 
sacks, 60 rupees; clothes for the new men, 152 rupees; 
butter, 80 rupees; tea, 50 rupees; stearin candles and 
sugar, 104 rupees; a Lhasa skin coat for myself. 40 rupees; 
and a sleeping-bag of soft goatskin, also for myself, 25 
rupees; in addition there was the hire of the pack animals 
which conveyed my baggage to Leh, 40 rupees, and the 
cost of transporting the newly purchased goods from Leh 
to Drugub, 20 rupees. Eleven men were to be enlisted 
in Leh. all having served in Haiii Xazcr Shah's comm.ercial 
house and known as honest respectable people. They 

1 '.. 

< IN JHl \\ \\ III I WK^F, 

■• ■- ' .- ::-fi.:J*^^%i;^'M^'i 

2^'i. [n Tin b : \\lll., MS iiiK WW l<> I.\ 

J''7. 'Illh Nku l|MH>f-- \M) Mli.K-, \1 l)Kl(,(il. 

:iMM:M!M T 



-a« I »• ' r,0 

w^m^m m^ 

I. <': 







were to receive 15 rupees a month each, tliouj^h tlieir 
usual \vaf,'es had not been more tlian 12, and three months' 
pay in advance. The caravan bashi was to receive 50 
rupees a month and be selected with very ^reat care. 
My wliole deijt to (}ulam Ra/.ul amounted to nearly 5000 
rupees, f(jr those who had had the trouble of makinj,' all 
these purchases were to receive a douceur over and above. 
I sent a note of hand to Colonel Dunlop Smith, with 
directions that this sum should Ix- j)aid to (}ulam Razul, in 
order that he might have security if I did not return from 
this journey. 

On October .p Gulani Razul sent his son to Leh to 
e(iui[) the new -ravan, which was to reach Drugub, ready 
in all i)artici. rs, on XovemlxT ,^0. For the valuable 
services rendered me on this occasion Clulam Razul after- 
wards received from II. M. King (justaf of Sweden the 
gold medal "for distinguished service," and I recommended 
him to the Indian (Government for the title of honour, 
Khan Bahadur; of course I based my appeal in this case 
on the great commercial services he had rendered to the 
Indian Empire. 

In Ciar-gunsa I heard news of a new treaty between 
Great Britain and Russia, which had been concluded in 
OctolxT of this year. "Cireat Britain and Russia bind 
themselves not to allow any scientific e.x{)edition of any 
kind whatsoever to enter Tibet for the ne.xt three years 
without previous agreement, and call upon China to act 
similarly" (Illustratioi' 274). 

It seemed as though this clause were especially de- 
signed to meet my case. I said not a word to (lulam 
Razul alx)Ut it. But I saw that I could no longer travel 
in Tibet as a European. Last year I had been successful 
when the j)olitical situation was still unsettled, but I had 
taught lx)th the Chinese and Tibetans a lesson, and shown 
them that it was possible for a European to travel right 
across the country. I had also placed a weaj)on in their 
hands against me. I should not be able to manage it 
a second time. Now they would keep their eyes open 
njonjr the 'H'ri^>Hi*r" 'if th-i' inh.ibitefl rountrv. T mtist 
travel in disguise to attract as little attention as possible. 










Another courirr was therefore sent to Lch to procure me 
a (uiiipletc Ladaki costume in Mohammedan fashion. 
(Julam Ka/.ul also was of opinion that, considering' all 
cinumstaiui.s. it would he wisest to travel as a merchant. 
The new caravan kadiT was to he our master, while I 
mysJf should li.i^ure as "the least of his servants," and 
keep mvself out of si,L,'hl in all neL,'otiations. 

The' whole affair was a desperate ^'ame, a y)olitical and 
diplomatic ^ame of chess, the stakes beini^' my own life or 
},'reat ^eo^'raphical discoveries. I. who had hitherto stood 
on the most friendly and confidential terms with the 
Tibetans, must now avoid them as enemies. I should not 
he able to see any Tibetan face to face, and should have to 
conceal mv own eyes in order not to be cau<^ht. Therefore 
a lari,a' pair of round j^'oi^'i^lcs with dark glasses was 
bou.^'lU; inside them I fastened jxtlished f^lasses ()f the 
streni^'th suited to my sight. My Huro[)ean outfit was 
restricted as much as was at all ])Ossible; the large 
camera and the boat were sent to Leh with my other 
baggage, and 1 took with me only a small Richard's 


The main [)oint was that in inhabited districts I should 
conduct myself with Oriental self-control and lx> entirely 
j)assive. The outcome of this mad plan was to me en- 
shrouded in imi>eni'trable darkness. I only knew that I 
must go northwards from Drugub in the direction of the 
Karakorum pass, then turn to the east and south-east, and 
endeavour to cross from Lemchung tso the blank space 
King to the south of Bower's route in i8gi, and thence 
continue mv jourmy through the great blank jjatch on 
the north ()f the upper TsangjX). If I were successful I 
would go south to India either through Nepal or through 
(jyangtse, where perhaps I might have an oi)portunity of 
meeting Major O'Connor, as I had always wished to do. 
r.ulan-T Ka/.ul advised me to be very cautious, for the 
Rudok-dzong had a i)aid spy in Drugub, who had to 
report on the movements of Europeans on the English 
side of the frontier. This spy was one of the most 
dangerous reefs in my fairway; the suspicion of llie 
Tibetans was at once roused when they found that I had 





bought twenty mules from Gulam Razul. The G;iri)un 
sent a messenger to find out what I wanted them for. 
He was told that thev were for a journey to Khotan. 

Thakur Jai Chand had an excellent jamadar whom he 
sent to meet the baggage coming from India. At length, 
in the Ix'ginning of NovemlxT, we received news that the 
consignment was coming. Then Rolx-rt proposed to go 
to meet our wished-for guests with some of our new- 
mules. Late on the evening of the 6th they all turned up 
when I was already in bed. They were five policemen 
from Rampur, one of them suffering from inflammation of 
the lungs and more dead than alive. When Robert met 
them they were so starved and exhausted that he had first 
to massage the whole i)arty to put new life into them (Illus- 
tration 276). 

I at once gave orders to light a roaring fire and serve 
tea. They came up with their laden mules, two Moham- 
medans, three Hindus — all in dark blue uniforms with tall 
blue-and-whitc turbans, rifles, and bayonets. I bade them 
welcome, thanked them for the excellent way in which 
they had performed their task, and made their corporal 
give me an account of their diflicult and trying journey 
over the Ayi-la. Then they were shown to slee|)ing i)laces 
in a tent, and next day I looked through the nine chests 
sent to me by Colonel Dunlop Smith. Three of them 
contained 6000 rupees in silver, all of the Queen's reign, 
none of the King's, for the Tibetans will not take rupees 
on which King Edward's face is stamped. The other 
bo.xes contained tinned meat of all kinds, preserves, choco- 
late, cheese, cakes and biscuits; cigars, cigarettes, and 
tobacco; gold and silver watches, and revolvers with 
ammunition, for presents; cartridges for two of our guns; 
note-books and map paper; a whole library of new novels, 
including Jack London's The Cdl of the Wild — a present 
from O'Connor and suitable reading for the adventurous 
time before us; an anemometer and a hydrometer, presents 
from the chief of the Central Meteorological Institute in 
Simla, Dr. Gilbert Walker; and a host of other necessary 
and acceptable articles. The amiable Colonel, his eq-jally 
amiable sister, and his daughter, had had no end of 

i^^f^^i^^^^irn. .: tr^-^ij ^ j^^'IT ^#!?^,=i: 

-J ■* I L. 








■'I I 

:> >/. 

'' n 

ri !ii 


troiil;;o in selecting and purchasing the things, packing 
thtm up and transmitting tht-m to Tibet. It was owing 
to their kindness that 1 was able for a long time to 
live like a j)rince, and I cannot Ix' sulTiciently grateful to 

Xow I had nothing more to wait for. The policemen 
were well paid, and I also Iwre the e.xpense of their return 
journey and gave them winter clothing; took a hearty 
farewell of my sincere friend Gulam Razul, without whose 
help the new journey wcjuld have been impossible ; thanked 
Thakur Jai Chand and the other Hindus for their kind- 
ness, and started olT on November 9, 1907, north-westwards 
along the course of the upper Indus. 

On the 26th we reached Tankse, where the dignitaries 
of the district and even the Tcsildar of Leh came to meet 
us. They had already heard that I intended to travel to 
Khotan in midwinter. The following day was to be a day 
of rest, for here I was to discharge all my old servants 
except Robert and the Gurkha, Rub Das. When I had 
breakfasted, Tsering carried out the plates and dishes, 
wliich now had many chijjs out of their enamel. "This is 
the last time, Tsering, that you will wait on me." Then 
the old man began to weep, and hurried out quickly. 

Then I summoned all the men to my tent and made 
them a sj)eech, telling them that they had served me 
faithfully and obediently, and had well earned the comfort 
and repose that awaited them by their domestic hearths in 
the Ixjsom of their families. I wished them good fortune 
and j)rosperity in the future, and reminded them of the 
loss we had all sustained by the death of Muhamed Isa — 
good old Muhamed Isa, who, when we were last at Tankse, 
had made all arrangements so cleverly and conscientiously. 
And to show them that we were not the only ones who 
mourned for him, I read them what Younghusband, 
O'Connor, and Rawling had written to me about the 

While their five horses and five yaks were being 
loaded with all their belongings, they came to me in my 
tent, one after another, to receive their pay and an extra 
present. Tsering, Rehim Ali, Shukkur All, and Tundup 



■i" ^M^i^iSi^-iJj^^^ 

!t 'I 

I \ 


\ ! 



Sonam received especial „'ifts of monev. the latti- iliree 
having exposed themsiive> to (i.iiigcr on mv ii.c.unt 
Old Tserin^' a.ked to 1m- allourd to kirp tiu' ' inic .jog 
from the .\«an','tse tso ; its hark U-fore his hut in Lih 
would remind him of thr time when the dog kipt w.drh at 
our camp fires. Sl.ukkur Ali kipt anothir dujr from the 
same country. Now I had onlv thr hroun I'uppv. \vhi( h. 
with RoUrt and the mule from Pooneh, utre amonp tin" 
oldest veterans of the caravan, all thrtr havin;,' aecm- 
I)anied me from Srinaf^ar. 

And then came the hitter moment of p.--tin^'. So 
much grief, such loud weeping! iluy could 1. dly tear 
themselves away. The Tcsildar was quite overcome at 
witnessing the deep attachment of mv simple followers. 
The honds were strong that were now »orn asunder, for 
there is nothing which knits men togetiier so firmly as 
common sufferings and dangers. I mysell felt a catch in 
my throat, and, as the men reluctantly followed their \aks 
down the road to Drugul), I ^toixl and watchid them 
until they were out of sight. Th. n I diied my ryes 
Ix'fore going into my tent, wher( Roi)<.rt and the fcsildar 
were waiting for me with tea and cakes served up hy Ruh 
Das. I could not help thinking of a funeral rei)ast after 
an interment, at which a wreath of violets had heen laid 
on the grave of a departed friend. 

Next morning I awoke to new surroundings. All my 
old companions were scattered to the four winds, and 
now they were gone all seemed emptv and deserted. 
Robert read off the meteorological instruments as usual, 
and Rub Das laid my breakfast as noiselesslv as an elf. I 
was glad that in spite of everything I felt not the slightest 
irresolution. The same angel who had protected me on 
my former journey would again attend my steps I seemed 
to hear once more in the di.-lance the rustle'of his wings in the 
cold winter nights on the Chang-tang. 


ms^K^y ■':'W^^^ ^:Si^msL 








1 1 

1 1 I 







As soon as wc wore ready vve mounted our horses and 
nnlc down l'> Drui^ul). Soon the old vilhiRe came in 
slight with thi' hou>e in whieh I had dwelt six years Ix'forc, 
and the garden in whieh we liad haUed in the year 1906. 
On a terrace 1k1<»w the villaj^e stocxl our three tents and 
a fourth. 'I'hi jamatUir I>he, old Iliraman, who never 
omitted to ^M-eet nie. and youn<; Armar Ju, another 
of mv old friinil>, salaam<(i ami i)resented to me my new 
men.' These three had orders from the Tesildar to 
acconi])anv me to Shyok. 

"Who is the earav;>n bashi?" 1 asked. 
"I am." an>were(l a little wrinkle<l old man called 
Alxlul Kerim, and wearinj^ a large yellow skin-coat (Illustra- 
tion 2S(;). 

"What are the names of the others.''" 
"KutU'^. (uilam, Suen, Alxlul Rasak, Sedik, Lobsang, 
Kunchuk. ("lalfar, AlxluUah, and Sonam Kunehuk." 

"\ou are then eleven men altogether — three Lamaists 
and eight Mohammedans?" 
"Yes. Sahib." 

"I shall at some future time take down your names, 
ages, places of alxnle, the journeys you have made, the 
services vou have Ixen in, etc." 

It turned out that very few of them had ever been 
in the service of a European, but all had been employed 
bv Na/xr Shah, and his son Gulam Razul answered for 
them. Four had been in Lhasa, and almost all the 
Mohammedans in Varkand, and all seemed pleasant and 
cheerful, and were in the prime of life. 


Amu 1 KmiM, nri Niw {'\k\\\N I.kxdkr. 



fT^spP^- j^ -^ 




1 1. 





"Which of you is mv cook?" 

"I am," answered Gulam, a comical little fellow, who 
immediatel) received a lecture fror \.il) -Oas how I was 
to be attended on (Illustration 291, 
"Are vou all Ladakis?" 

"Yes,' Sahib, all except Lobsai./, who is a 'Iitoan 
f om Gar-gunsa, but has married in Leh and has served 
with the Hajji Xazer Shah." 

I was somewhat loath to take a Tibetan with me 
on a journey where it was essential to keep the Tibetans 
as long as possible in the dark. If danger threatened, 
how easilv he could U-tray me to his countrymen! I con- 
sidered whether I would not exchange him for another 
man, or simply leave him behind. Hut how often had 
I reason subsequently to rejoice that I had not given 
effect to the suggestion! With the excei)tion of the 
four Russian cossacks and Robert, Loljsang was the bc-st 
servant who ever accompanieti me on my journeys through 
the wilds of Asia. He was a splendid man, and I cherish 
a warm recollection of him (Illustration 290). 

All were now welcomed into my service, and I 
expressed the hope that they would jKTform their duty 
as faithfully as their predecessors, promised them an extra 
donation of 50 rupees each if I were contented with them, 
and told them that I would pay the expensc-s of their 
return home from the point where our journey ended, just 
as I had done before. When it was known in Leh that 
I wanted fresh servants for the journey to Khotan, 
GufTaru and all the men I had sent home from Tokchen 
presented themselves and begged earnestly to Ik- restored 
to my service. But the old Hajji had received strict direc- 
tions from his son. Not one of my old servants might 
accompany me this time, for it would increase the (langer 
if we met Tibetans with whom we were already acquainted. 

The new horses seemed fine and strong, and stcxxi, 
eating hay and barlev, i^^ a long row along a wall, Ix-side 
the mules and the veterans from Leh. They were to be 
well fed, for the davs of feasting would soon be over, and 
it would be well if they put on flesh, on which they could 
fall back in evil davs. All the goods ordered were of the 

;l ! 




'• t; 


i I ' 





lH>t quality, and parked in new strong toxcs covered with 
Uathcr (liru>trati()n 287). 

On till' morning of XowmbcT 29, 1007. three 1 iL)ctans 
came fn.m Ru.lok-.l/.onK an.l >et up their tents on our 
Kft wing. There, I tliouglit. now espionage is beginning. 
\n hour later we heard the sound of bells uj) in the valley. 
The noise Ix'canie louder and louder Ix-tween the clilTs, 
and a great din was rai>ed as thirty-four tine little mules 
\vilh loads of >alt pas>e.l bv mv tent. All had a chain of small 
bells round their neek>, mo>t of them were adorned with 
red and blue ribands, and some had large red tassels 
hanging at their che>t.., which almost touched the ground 
an.l swung alK)Ut at everv step. It was a bright and lively 
scene and the jingle of bells allured me out to fresh 
adventurer in di-^tant regions. In the twinkling of an eve 
the animals were relieve.l of their loads and driven up the 
vallev like a herd of wild as-es. to graze on the scanty 
grabs' among the granite. The owners must then Ijc 
traders Thev afterwards came into my tent, took tea 
and 'igarettc's, an.l a>ke.l Alxiul Kerim whither we were 
travelling, lie answered without lying. "1.) ^^'lo/^"; 
It was I who lie.l. liut had I told the truth. I should 
have been stopped in fourteen days, and might as well 
have gone home at once. 

We ha.l three new tents. The two larger accommo- 
dated mv eleven servanl>; the smallest, which was so 
small that one could onlv stand upright under the ridge- 
nole and coul.l onlv he)ld a Ixd and two 1x).xes, was mine. 
I wishe.l to have one as small as possible that it might e'asilv be kept warm. -Ml my baggage was re-packed. 
I .rave some superlluous articles to Rolx-rt and to the Xev. 
Mr Peter in Leh. There was a very thorough sorting 
„ut and onlv what was absolutely indispensable was 
packed, tilling' iwo Ixixes, one of which chielly contaim- 
Swidish and " English Ixjoks, sent by my sister Alma and 
Colonel Dunlop Smith. As soon as they were read, they 
woul.l K- olTered to the winds. When I moved at night 
int.. mv new tent an.l lai.l myself to rest in the large 
sleeping bag lined with sheep's w(K)1, and cyered myself, 
I was as warm and comfortable as in a bed at home. 



!' '- 

I. f 









Gulam Razul's son. Alxlul Hai, visited mc, ami our 
business matters were transacted with him. RoUrt 
remained responsible for my heavy bafz«a,-;e until he ha<i 
dcpfisited it in the house of the Hajji Xazer Sliah. It 
consisted of ten rei;ulation hors-loaiU. Tn my kisuu' 
hours I wrote a heap of letters, which Rolxrt was to hand 
in at the post-ofl'ice in Leh. 

We had now 21 muU s and g horses, the t)rown 
Puppv. and a lar^e yellow do^' from (lartok. All 
the mules and horses, excejn mine and Alxlul Kerim's 
saddle-horses, carrie<l loads. I rcnle mv little white 
Ladaki (Illustrations 296, 297, 2f)8), which ha. urowi. marvel- 
louslv strong' aj^'ain, and was as spirited as one of the new 
horses. He and two others were the survivors of the larj,'e 
caravan which had, on the former occasiiin, set out from Leh. 
In order to make sure that Alxl.l Kerim took suflicient 
provender, I told him he must n')t think that I would follow 
the direct road like ordinary raravans. T mi^ht make excur- 
sions right and left, and often remain stationary for a week at 
a time.' He must, therefore, provide barley for the animals 
for two-and-a-half months, and he must take carethat the 
provender we took with us lasted out. Hut it is >tupid 
to trust to others. All the heavy baggage from Simla, the 
silver money, and the tinned |)rovi>ions made four loads; 
Gulam's chests of kitchen utenr-ils two; the tent, the 
bedding, and the Ixlongings of the men made several 
loads; all the other animals were to l)e laden with 
rice, barlev, and Isaniba. We also took 25 sheei) from 


In the night of Decemkr 3 the thermometer fell 
to -10.1°. Next morning all the baggage was packe(l U[) 
and carried down the valley to Shyok by coolies. Two 
fellows, as strong as kars. carried my two tent-boxes. 
The animals carried only their new saddle-. One gnjup 
after another marched olT, and at last I remained alone. 
Then I shook hands with my faithful companion, Rolx'rt, 
thanked him for his invaluable services, his honesty, his 
courage, and his patience; asked him to greet for me the 
missionaries. Dr. Neve, and warm India: took leave also 
of honest Rub Das and all the others; mounted into my 

,i^ 1^ 


i ' i ! 

i ''< 

i-i ; 





new La(hik sad.lle on my irusty white-, am ro<lc down to 
the Shvnk valkv with Anmar Ju. I was the ast remain- 
ing ..fthc' original caravan, and was surrounded by men 
^vho were compktc strangers to me. Hut I was also 
stran-'e to them, and they had no suspicion of the 
f.M.lh'anlv adventures I intended to lea<l them into. I he 
wind, however, was the same, and the same stars woukl 
tuinkk- in the skv during; the coki siknt nights in Iibet. 
So I shoukl not W quite ak)ne. 

It i. httle more than 6 miles to Shyok, and >c 
this slv.rt .listance tuck almost eight hours. \Ve had 
t,. cross the river six times, which just Ix-low the village o 
Drugut, has cut a ikvp "'""row passage between rocks ol 
granite and gnei.s. The first crossing was easy, '^r there 
Se river had been fn./.en over in the night, and though 
the ice cracked, we passed over by a path strewn wi h 
san.l \t the second i)assage the river was open, but 
id and hallow, and^ the ice Ix^lts on Ix-th su es had 
lleen >trewn with sand. The third, where we had to cross 
over a-'ain to the right bank, was very awkward, l)ecause 
^cV hcTt. su<!denlv en<ling in the mid.lle were Ocxxled 
in conscciuen.e of' a damming up of the ice '-^ver down 
Thev could not therefore be strewn with sand and nnc had 
to be careful lest we should fall out of the saddle when the 
h<,rses set tlieir feet down in the water 3 ft.'et deep. 
It is little more agreeable when he jumps up on the 
oppl".site edge, and his hooves slide alx^ut Ix-fore he can 
cet a firm foothold on the smooth icc. 
^ Below this place was the fourth crossing - the worst 
of all an«l here the whole train had come to a halt. Un 
the ri-dit bank, where we stocxl. the river was broad and deep, 
with lev col.l. <lark blue, transparent water winding down, 
Init at the left bank lav a broad U'lt of ice. Suen a ta 1 
!,iack.bearde.l man with very Jewish features barc.l his bo<l 
and examined the ford on horseback. In ^^^lo'"!? ^^ 
.ot into water so deep that his h<.rse Ix-gan to ^^vim. Then 
he jumped in himself and swam to the edge of the icc 
where i c.t him great elTort to climb up. Poor man ! I 
Shivered as I looked at him; he had been ciuite under 

n i 

-; _- j > - 

ii,i. ltKi.i.\K^. 

..,,. \i.iii I ki KIM-. M AV Ti sr. 


, I 

( 1 



A. ' 




Four of the others made an attempt a little hi.^her up. 
and got over, but they were up to their necks in water. 
Then the whole troop of mules an<l horses were driven 
into the river; the horses mana,i,'nl Ixst. One mule, I felt 
sure, would Ix- lost. He made no attempt to hoist himself 
on to the ice until he had Intn pelted with stones from 
our bank. And when at length he was up and was follow- 
ing the track of the others, the ice cracked and gave way 
un'^Ur him, and there he lay enclosed. All five men had to 
l^ull him out and drag him over the ice to solid ground. 

IJarelv 100 yards farther down is the fifth ford. Be- 
tween the two stands a steep, smooth, projecting rmk, its 
f(K)t washed by the river. It is. however, possible to 
climb over the rock up small fissures and over slight 
projections and thus avoid the two detestable fords. 
Here all the baggage was carried over by the coolies, and 
I myself climUd over the rocks baref<x)ted ; a short way 
lx?yond this crag a strong man carried me over smooth 
flooded ice. Here we had plenty of time for meditation, 
while the animals were again driven through such deep 
water that they almost had to swim. All were wet up to 
the root of the tail and many had water over their backs. 
The poor creatures stool together closely in a group, with 
pieces of ice hanging from their flanks and knocking 
together like castanets. We kindled a fire that the five 
men who had Ix-en in the water might undress, dry 
themselves, and change every stitch of clothing. 

Then we went some distance downstream to a place 
where the heavy provisions were piled up on the bank, 
and the poor animals had to enter the icy water before 
they had got warm again. Here the baggage had to Ix- 
carried over the river by stark-naked men, who tried with 
staves in their hands to keep their equilibrium among the 
treacherous rounded stones in the river Ix-d. An elderly 
man was seized with cramp when he was half way across 
and could not move a step. Two lx»ld youths jumped into 
the water and dragged him to land. Two mules, which 
could not Ix.' induced by coaxing or scolding to enter the 
water, were tugged over with a rojx^. I had a guide 
before my horse, which was wet half way up the saddle, so 




»" i 




that I had to tuck up my k^^ as hi^h as possible, and in 
this f)o>ition it was very diflkult to kctp my halancf, as the 
horse mack' unexpected jumj)s among the blocks. The 
men raJM-d such a loud hurrah that the mountains rang 
again when I was over the last ford with a whole skin; a 
blazing fire prevented any ill el7ecl> from my foot bath. 
Kvery man, who came across shivering. (irip[iiiig. and blue 
with cold, had to sit down immediately by the fire. I 
could not understand why they were not fro/en to death. 

Then wc nnle in the twilight u\) and down hill, and it 
was pitch dark Ixfore a welcome blazing fire showed us 
that we were near the village of Shyok. We gathered 
round it as we came up. and delighted in its radiating heat. 
I could not help consoling mvMlf with the thought that, if 
anv pursuers followed me up from the English side, they 
would at any r.ite get a C<>1<1 l)ath Ixfore they found me. 

In the night tin temi)erature fell to only 15.4°. but here 
wc were at a height of only 12.^15 feet. We stayed on 
DecemlKT 5 in Sliyok, to dry the i)ack >addles and give the 
animals a day's after their trying work. In the even- 
ing the men held .1 farewell festival, for Shyok was the last 
village in Ladak. .As soon as the drums and flutes were 
htard, all the women and girls of the country flocked to 
the (lanre. 

On December 6 wc took leave of our last friends, and 
marched down the slopes to the floor of the Shyok valley, 
where the altitude is 12. ,^00 feet; it was the lowest sf)ot we 
were in for a k):ig time (Illuslrali"n ,^00). For from here 
we mounted nortlnvards up the valley excavated by the great 
afllucnt of tlie Indus. There is no road or \y.\{h to speak of, 
onlv rubbish and rounded lx)ulders, but the >cencry is won- 
derfully fine, and gigantic g anite crags tower uj) on all sides. 
We crossed I'h- river five times, which here carries about 
420 cubic feel of water ami has Ik-Us of ice of varying 
breadth. ;\ solitary starved wanderer from Yarkand met 
us, and was given a meal of tsamlui. We , tched "iir 
camp among the bushes in a Ix'd of .sand at Chong-yangal, 
where 1 had stayed in tli<- year TQ02. 

We were mlw alone. Only one man n'>t belonging to 
the caravan was still with us, Tubges of Shyok, who had 





char^f of our s1ut|) duriiiK tin- rarly tl.iy> of our jourrn y, 
csiK'cially at tin- fords. In tlu- iviniii« I had a n.nvirs.t 
tion with ANlul Kirim, Kutii^. ami llulam. I now told 
them that 1 w.-uld not travil to Khotan \)\ tlu' ordinary 
road, Utausr 1 knew it alnady. W f woul<l >trikr more to 
the cast, and the MM)nrr wc lamc uj) on to thi- |>latraii the 
kttiT. They ri'plinl that luhKis km w the (ountry will. 
He was calkd in to the i()n>ultation. What if wc went 
through the Chang-clunmo valley to Tam/al and the 
Lanakla? "No,"' he answered, "that is imi>os>il)le ; one 
can ^o as far as ( )ro ^ -t^e, hut there the valley Ihcomh-, as 
narrow as a corridor, and iee ea>eades and l)oulder> (over 
the Ijotlom of the valley. Anim.ds eannoi ^vl tlirou<^h 
even withijut loads." It 'was then evident that we must 
continue up the Shyok valley and watch for an opportunity 
of diver^'in}^ eastwards. 

So on the 7th we v.iiit on U'tween ^rand mountain 
gables, silent and solemn, like K^'yptian pyramids, like 
cathedrals and fortress tower>. between them detritus 
cones descend to the valley iloor. where their l»a-es are 
enxled by the hi^h w.iter of the summer tlood and cut olT 
in perpendicular walls. It must be a ma^'nilkent spectacle 
when the turbid thunderin<,' water rolls down from llie 
meltinj,' snow of the Karakorum and fills all the valley, 
makin}^ its way with tri-mendou.> force to the In<lus. \n 
enormous blcnk of perhaps 70,000 cubic feet has fallen 
down; it has cracked in falling, as thouf^h a j^iant had split 
it with his a.\e; one fancies one can see the gaj) it has left 
on the hei^'lits aljove. Four times the i)ath the 
stream, and the rather narrow opening; of the Chanj;- 
chenmo valley is left on the rit;ht. We encamped among 
the dunes of' Kaptar-khane. In the night the temperature 
fell to 2.5°. 

The way is terribly trying, nothing but detritus and 
blocks of grey granite, which the horses wear out 
their shfx^s. Again we crossed the river twice and set up 
our tents in the oasis Dung-yeilak, where a worn-out 
car.ivan from Khotan had already settled, and had sent a 
messenger to Nubra for help, as several of their horses 
had foundered. 


ANSI n"a ISO I^'' Chart No 2 


1^ 12.8 

u; m 











■ 1 

« 1 



- I 

[ I 


! '. 


il ' 

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As long as there \v;is pasturage wc could take matters 
quietly and make short marches. Only too soon the grass 
would come to an end, and then wc must make more haste. 
So wc rested a day when the merchant Muhamed Rehim 
from Khotan arrived at the oasis with his caravan. But 
he only remained an hour, for he wanted to reach warrncr 
regions, and was glad to have the Karakorum pass behind 
him. He earnestly advised me to wait till spring, for the 
snow lay deei)cr than usual on the pass. One of his 
caravan men also came to me and gave me a handful of 
dried peaches. "Does the Sahib remember me?" he 
asked. "Certainly, you are Mollah Shah." The good 
fellow, now fiftv->even years old, and with his beard greyer, 
had ne\er visited his home in Cherchen again since he had 
left my service in the spring of 1902. What a singular 
wandering life, full of toil and adventure, these Asiatics 
lead! He imj)lorcd me to engage him again, but I told 
him he ought to be glad to go down into Ladak instead of 
returning to the frightful pass in the middle of the icy 
winter. It would certainly have been pleasant to have 
with me an old tried companion. But no, he would have 
been out of place in my Ladaki company. Mollah Shah 
told us for our encouragement that a large caravan had 
lost fifty-two horses on the pass, and had been obliged to 
leave behind the greater part of their goods. 

None of my [)Cople knew yet my actual plans. As 
long as we were on the great winter route to Eastern 
Turkestan they must all believe that Khotan was my 
destination. We had also the advantage that all who met 
us would report in Ladak that they had seen us on the 
great highway, and thus no suspicion would Ix; aroused. 

Decemlx;r 10. It was colder, the minimum tempera- 
ture being - 2.4°. My Curzon hat was burned in the fire. 
In its place I put on a large skin-cap which Muhamed 
Isa had sewed together, and wound round it a pugree as a 
protection against the sun. Arms of the river with a gentk 
current were coveretl with glittering ice, but the main 
stream, now much smaller, was nearly free. At the camf 
at Charvak a -T-inrr hro^^k flashed, down the rocks in ? 


tinkling cascade, though the cold did all it could to silenct 

I "1 



' "^^ 1^.:^ \ 

> • *^ .• • •., T 

K >,.. ^ik^vn- 



j</>. jij;. -"j"^. Mh Wniii I.\ii\ki I1ok>k. 


w^'-Mik^^i^^^(2m?m^-mms^- \mi^^:i: ^ 

■-■(^:'^'(v^^^ ^ 

'i,., -r ■ ... ^.-^ - - ■- - 

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it. The animals were driven up the slopes whore the 
grass was better. A huge fire was lighted when the day 
declined and a narrow sickle of a moon stood in the sky. 
Where the animals were driven up, there was a thunder- 
ing fall of stones in the night, and some blocks rolled down 
and lav among our tents. It was a dangerous place. 

We had a cold march on the way to Yulgunluk. When 
thick snow clouds cover the sky, the wind blows in the 
traveller's face, and the temperature at one o'clock is i4-9°' 
one feels the cold dreadfully, and has to tie a thick neck- 
cloth over the face. The valley is lifeless and deserted. 
Hitherto we had only seen a hare, an eagle, and a raven; 
the last followed us from camp to camp. Six times we 
crossed the stream; the brown Puppy was carried over, 
but the yellow dog found his way across; he howled 
piteouslv whenever he had to go into the cold water. 

In Yulgunluk also, at a height of 13,455 feet, we 
encamped a day. Now the thermometer fell in the night 
to -6.2°. This was the last really pleasant and agreeable 
oasis we came across. During the day of rest we heard 
the horses neighing with satisfaction on the pastures 
and the sheep bleating. The loads of provender were 
already smaller, sf) we could load four horses with go<xl 
knotty firewood. On the right side of the valley rose a 
snowy mountain. As early as two o'clock the sun dis- 
appeared, but it lighted up the snow long after the valley 
lay in deep shadow; th • sky was blue and cloudless. In 
the evening the men sang at the fire just the same melodies 
as their predecessors. The winter days are short, but 
they seem endlessly long to one tortured by the uncertainty 
of his cherished hopes. By eight o'clock the camp is quiet, 
and at nine Gulam brings in the last brazier after I have 
read the meteorological instruments. How I long to get 
out of this confined valley on to the plateau country ! Here 
we are marching north-north-west, and I ought to be going 
east and south-east. If we could find a way up to the 
Chang-tang by one of the valleys to the east, we should be 
saved much time and many a weary step. 

On December m wc looked in vain for such a way- 
We crossed the river twice more on its ice-sheet. At the 






second ford the wliolc caravan passed over dry-shod, and 
only my small white hor^^e broke throuG;h and I wet my 
feet. AftiT a third crossing we camped in a desolate spot 
just opposite the Shialiing valley. It looked promising. 
Tubgcs and Kutus were sent uj) the valley to spy out the 
land. In the evening they returned with the tidings that 
we could go a fairly long distance u[) the valley, but beyond 
it became imixissable owing to deep basins, abundant ice, 
and large boulders, as in the Drugub river. We 
must therefore keep on the route to the Karakorum pass. 
This increased the risks for the caravan, for it lengthened 
the distance; but, on the other hand, it lessened the danger 
of discovery, for when once we had got intc; Tibet wc could 
avoid the most northern nomads. 

Now Tubges begged j)ermission to accompany mc to 
the end, and his j)etition was eagerly supported by all the 
other men. I was the more willing to take him that he 
was a skilled hunter. I had now twelve men, and I 
made the thirteenth in the caravan. But wc were not 




Heavy clouds and piercingly co'd wind increased the 
flifticulty of our march on Decemlx-r 14 up the valley. 
We saw two bales of gocxls, sewed up in linen and with 
the stamp of a Turkestan firm, lying on the ground, as 
though they had fallen from a dying horse, the carcase 
of which wc had passed. Higher up two more. They 
contained silken materials from Khotan. So far the 
caravans come with failing strength after excessive 
exertions on the They arc like ships which 
throw their cargo overlx)ard when they begin to sink. 
At Koteklik also we f(jund passable grass and firewood. 
Gulam is a caj)ital cook; he prepares me the most delicate 
cutlets and rissoles, and for a change gives me chickens 
and eggs. 

On the 15th there is little water in the valley; it runs 
under rubbish, but farther up the river is again fresh and 
clear. We frequently pass the remains of unfortunate 
caravans, dead horses, bales of goods, and pack-saddles 
from which the hay has been removed to save the life of 
a djang horse. We travel west-north-westwards, and 
therefore ever farther from our goal But at length we 
come to a valley which will lead us in the right direction. 
We leave the Sasser valley to the left and enter a valley 
portal full of treacherous ice, often as thin as skin. We 
wait till our scouts have tried the ice, which they declare 
to be impassable. Tubges, however, finds another, longer 
way, over steep hills, and at their f(XJt we pitch our camp. 

Xext morning we went over a steep spur of porphyry 





! 1 




I '. 






to reach a l)ctter i)lafc on the frozen river which was 
afTord us an easterly passaf,'e up to Murgu. We cross 
again and again the strip of ice, which was first strci 
with sand tliat the hordes might not break their legs, 
usual two scouts went in advance. One of them car 
back and called to us from a distance that a fallen ro 
closed up the valley. C)n reaching the spot I found that 
landslij) had lately taken j)lace. The blocks of porphy 
barring the channel were as big as houses, and bctwe 
them the river formed deep ba.sins covered with a th 
coat of ice. We had therefore to turn back and retra 
our steps all the way down to camp No. 279, over t 
terrible rock, which on this side was so steep that ea.' 
animal had to be shoved up separately, and the men h; 
to look out for themselves when a pack got loose ai 
rolled down the acclivity. Then we went some di.stan 
up the Sasser valley. .X strong icy wind blew in o 
faces. Beside a wall of rock the dogs put up a hare whi( 
took refuge in a hole, but Kunchuk pulled him out aga 
and he was condemned to be eaten. Our cainp this tir 
was in an almost barren place, and after all the fording 
the river during the day icicles clinked on the flanks of o 
wearied animals. 

It is evening again. The mountain spurs project, dai 
and rugged, into the valley like huge sarcophagi, and < 
them rest moon-lighted snowfields like shrouds. Tl 
Ladakis sing no more; their ditties are frozen on the 
lips. It is awfully cjuiet. The kitchen fire flickers wi 
yellowish-red tongues in the white moonshine. One ci 
almost hear the sound of the frost outside. 

After Gulam has brought in the last brazier I undre 
myself, put on my large woollen dressing-gown, set mysf 
awhile right over the fire to get a little heat into my Ixx 
before I creep into my lair of fur, and smile to hear tl 
yellow dog, who is lying outside, and barks and snarls ; 
the increasing cold in the angriest and most comical tone 
No wonder he is enraged, for the thermometer falls in tl 
night to —12.8°. Then I hear a singular squeaking 
Oulam's tent. We had already anticipated a happy ever 
and now i inquired whether there was an addition to tl 


'7/' li5P5^^^K--> *• 










Puppv family. Four sm.ill puppifs had a^iin comr into 
thf world, 'riicv had waited for tlu' very coldi-s? night 
\vc had vrt rxpt rirmnj. (ailam had rontriwd a cage of 
fric/.f ruKN in which Puppy lay, licking her young oiu-.s. 
Two of tlu- tinv animals wiTr of tht- fcinalf. two of the 
male sex; tlie former were drowned, for we thought that 
the others would grow stronger if they monoinili/ed all 
the milk and heat that would otherwise have U-en divided 
among four. I .sat hy the huteh and studieil the interesting 
group till 1 was so stilT with eold that I could hardly walk 
back to my tent. -Next morning the tiny (urs were going 
on splendidlv; one of them whined in (juite the orthcKJox 
fashion, and' no doubt thought what a grim cold country 
fate had launched him into. We determined to take gcxnl 
care of them, for thev would be pleasant comjjanions for 
me. Up here thev would at any rate be immune from 
the .sickness which had carried olT their elder sisters. 
Kunchuk had to carry them against hi.s bare skin to keep 
them warm. Half \vay Mamma Pujjpy was allowed to 
occupy herself for a 'while with her little ones, though 
these did not seem quite to understand the milk business. 

We had a bad march on Decemk-r 17. Xo shouts of 
encouragement were heard, but the caravan moved on 
slowly and apathetically. Within half an hour our feet 
were benumbed and all feeling. I wound the ends of 
mv bashlik like a visor several times round my face u]) to 
the eyes, but the breath turned it inU; a thick of ice 
which froze to my moustache and Ixard, which I had 
allowed to grow since leaving Oartok to suit my intended 
Mohammedan disguise. All the men put on their furs. 
Dust and soil flew about, and our faces had a smgular 

1 At a place where a Yarkand caravan was encamped, 

I we turned to the right up a very narrow valley, in which 
1 the floor, covered with bright milky-white ice. Ujoked like 
- a marble j)avement between the rocky walls. Fortunately 
. the Yarkand men had strewn sand over the ice, but still 
i it did not prevent several of our animals from falling, so 
; that Ihey had to IjO ii>a>Ku aga;::. 

When wc at length camped in Long the temperature 


'! \ 





at /cro even at thr<c oMuik. A >c(< 

imi^l avoid alxivc ivtry 


(if who-i- fivt had Urn 

s<. thai thr llrsh and toes 



)nd lar^c ^■arkand 
ciravan. un thr homcwanl jounuy. was haUin^; luTf. 
Tlic kM(kr^ asked Us to travel with tlum ..v.r the Kara- 
korum. hut I refused, with the ex. Use that w.' ( ould make 
„m1v sliort .hiv's marches. ( H.servation l.y .my who mi^jht 
t,ll' the Chinese in Varkand that I iia.l a'^am |.asse<l ..ver 
into 'ril)et was exaitiy what I 

Here lay a iM>or man. ih) 
frosl-hilten 'on tlie Karakorum 

aduallv fell olT. He . rawh'd u]. to our (amp an. 
over h'is disastrous fate. He had Urn in^'af^e-l with the 
Varkand earavan wr ha<l met llrst, hut as he had Uromc 
in(ai)al)le of work owin^' to his wounds, the barbarous 
merchant ha.l -lismissed him in tiie midst of the wilds an<l 
left him Uhin.l. In sueh a (ase it is hanl to know what 
to do We eoul.l not cure him, and to lake him with us 
or «ive u|. a part of the earavan for him was out of the 
(,uesti<.n. He said himself that he would crawl to Shyok, 
hut how was he to ^.l across the river? 1 let him warm 
himself at our hre, drink tea, an<l eat, and cm tlu' iSth, 
when we went on aftcT -.f.f of frost in the ni-ht, I K^'vc 
him t^iimlni for several <lavs, matches, and a sum of money 
which woul.l enable him to hire a horse from a caravan 
travellin},' to Shyok. 

This day's march took us eastwards to a i)lacc ca ec 
Hulak (the'sprin-); it should properly have been callec 
Guristan (the Kravevard), for he re lay at least twenty dead 
horses During' a ride of two hours I had counted sixtv- 
thrtr carcases of horses; it is wonderful that trade on this 
caravan route, the hij^hest in the world, can U- 

Trom there the route ran up the narrow hssured 
Mur'^ vallev, at first up and down over hills, where 
numUrs of dea.l horses, which ha<l once Urn strong and 
fat, showed us the wav. Then we descended a break-neck 
,,ath into the deep vallev. where spring water at the 
bottmi forme<l cracked domes of icr. Then on the sh.pes 
of the left tlank we climbed again up a zig/.a-^ path ; the 
snow became deeper and was piled Uj-, c-^peciair,- on 
smooth that if the horses had made a 




IP lo Till-: iiKic.nrs of dai's.wc, .mi 

strp uc shoiilii have Ikiii !<>^t InvDnil ninviry. 'I In- 
laniU(;iln.' was maijiiifu i iit, hut it (ouM not In.' iiroprrly 
I'DJoyol win II ttu' tini|uraturi- alxmt one i)"il(Mk otily 
o.,^''. Ami llun a^ain wi' uint down luadlnti^; to tlic 
valK'V Ixittoni, wlurr wi' pa>Mi| nvtr a natural lirid^'r of 
nuk ini|ir<ivi<l liy tlii' liaiid of man. Our diuction had 
Ikcii last, liut now ur divir^d niorr ami i;iorc to the 
north ami north wc^t. 

'llu' snow Indiniis dccpt r, tin- >un sinks, tin- shadows 
(Tiip up the ndili-h \illo\v hill>. tlu' wind is strongrr, 
and one thinks: If this la>ts nnu h longer I shall frci/i'. 
At last wc halt at the foot of a tirracr on tlu- ri^dit side of 
the vallry, where tlu' sluij) are <lriveti into a lavc to keej) 
them warm in t!ie ni^dit. I slip down from the saddK- 
with all mv limbs numlxd, and lont^ for a fire. Xot a 
trace of orj^anic life wa.-. to U' Seen at eamp No. 283. 
The horses and inuks were tethered so that they sttMxl in 
a (lose pack. 

At this unlucky cam]) I made the first discovery on 
this new journi'y through 'i'ihet. AImIuI Kerim came to 
me at the fire and said: 

''Sahil), we have barley for cij^l.t to ten days more; 
hut in that time we shall reach SliahiduUa, where we can 
get everythini^." 

"Kij^ht to ten days! Are you mad? Did you nf)t 
olx-v mv orders? Did I not tell vou e.xpresslv to take 
barley for 2 J months?" 

"I brought a su[)ply with me which was enough for 
the journey to Khotan." 

"Dill I not tell you that I was not going to Khotan 
by the ordinary route, but by roundalx'Ut ways which 
would demand at least two months?" 

"Ves, Sahib, I have acted wrongly," answered the old 
man and U'gan to sob. Alxlul Kerim was an honest man, 
but he was stupid, and he had nc)t the great experience of 
Muhamed Isa. 

'■\(»u are caravan bashi, and the duty of a caravan 
leader is to sec that th -re is sutTicient provender for the 
journev. When the ten davs arc over, our animals w'jll 
starve. What do you__mean to do then?" 

Vol.. II K 


[■'• \ 


I ' 

i 1 





"Sahib, send mc with some animals to Shahidulla. I 
can Ije back a-^ain in a fortni.^ht." . cu i,- 

"Y,m know that cvcrvthin^^ that happens m Shahi- 
dulla is reported to the Amban_ of Khotan. 1 he Chmesc 
mu-t know nothing of our intentions." _ 

Mv first notion was to dismi>^, Aixlul Kerim at once 
and to write to the Hajji Xa/er Shah for more provender 
whieli mi'^ht be brou^m u], on hired animals but wha 
would thev think in western Tibet and Ladak if 1 sen 
for more "pn'Vcn<Ur from Leh when I was barely ei-h 
davs' iournev from Shahidulla, which lies on the direct road 
to' Khotan '■'■ Mv whole i-Ian would Ix- betrayed and must 
fail I should be stoj.ped bv the first nomads, i)erhaps by 
the Kn>di^h whom I had so hapiiily escaped hitherto. It 
wa^ onfv necessarv to forlu.i the natives to supply me with 
provi>ions and ba-ai^e anim^.b. And if I procure, all we 
\vante<l in Shahi<lulla, the Amban of Kh(;tan would send 
word to Kash-ar, whence a telegrai.h line runs through 
A.iato Pekin,' where Ili> Kxcellence Xa Tang provec so 
absolutelv immovable when th.e Swedish Mini>ter W allenberg 
had L'iven hiiiiM If s<. much trouble to obtain for rne per- 
mission for a new journey through Tibet. L p here in 
this desolate vallev my position was strong. We had 
sneaked quietlv anri cautiou>ly through British territory 
without exciting suspicion. But as soon as we came into 
contact with the outer world we shoukl be caught. 

I sat in mv tent all the evening, considering the mattcr 
from all -ides' and measured the distances on my map with 
c<impa^<es. We were about 100 miles from my camp 
Xo. 8 of the preceding year, where the .U'ra-s was so good. 
So far we could travel without the le;!,-t .lifTiculty. But 
bevond we had 4^0 miles more, to the district on the 
T.')n'r-tso. However, before we came there we must meet 
with" nomads and gra/.ing lan.l. The horses indeed, would 
be lost l)ut the Tibetan mules were, so Gulam Razul sai(b 
accustomed to shift for themselves, and they were not 
Ldven barlev. The first stej) was to reach the free open 
Chang tang' and get out of this frightful n]<'"^^'trap^,^ Uie 
Slivok vallev, which wa> always taking us lurl.icr n^r.,,^ 
north-west. 'Even if we had to sacrifice everything and 




creep on all fours to the nearest tent, I would not <i;ive in: 
I would not (le])art a hair's hreadth from the original |)lan. 

Xight came with a dear sky, twinkling >tars, and sharp 
fro>t ; i)y nine o'dock the temperature was down to 
— 20.4°. The animals stood (|uietly crowded to,L,ather 
U) keej) themselves warm. When I aw(;ke occasionally 
I did not hear them, and they mij,du have vanished. The 
minimum was reached at -31.-'°. When I was awakened, 
Kutus had been out on the j)r()wl into a broad valley, 
cominj,' in from the east, and had found a road which, as far 
as he could see, was excellent. We had still two days' 
journey from camp Xo. j8j? to tin- dreaded Karakorum 
j)ass, which I wished to avoid. If we ascended the side 
valley eastwards, we should soon arrive at the main crest 
of the Karakorum range and Ix' spared two days' journey. 
I resolved to try it. 

So we travelled on December 20 to the east north-east 
over crunchini^ snow. The valley looked verv promising, 
especially as old horse tracks could be seen in some places. 
In the middle of the valley was the bed of a brook covered 
over with smooth treacherous ice, but elsewhere there was 
nothing but detritus, .\fle- we had passed a hill thickly 
overgrown with Intrtsr tufts, all vegitation ceased. At 
one o'clock the temperature was —5.(8°. Mv beard was 
white with rime, my face-cloth turned into a mass of ice, 
and all the animals were v.hite. For hours we slowly 
mounted upwards. In some places the valley was so 
contracted that it was only 2 yards broad. The best of 
the day was over when the caravan suddenly came to 
a halt. All was quiet in the front, and I waited with 
Kutus for whatever was to happen. 

After a time came Alxiul Kerim, much cast down, with 
the news that the valley was im})assable at two j)laces. 
I went to look. The first barrier of rocks might be forced, 
but the second was worse. We could certainly have 
dragged the baggage over the ice between and under the 
blocks, but there was no passiige for the animals. Should 
we try to make a road along which the animals could be 
lulped over the blocks by the united strength of the men? 
\cs; but first men must Ix; sent up to find out whether 

:'«>r ;fc>i;^;= ^ : Jvfcy 








firc. A nuik- made his way into 
sonulliini: edible in my washing- 


there were more of sueh harriers to cro.s. When they 
came Iwek with tlie news that the way was sli 1 worse 
abn-c, I gave orders t.) pitdi the ram]), a^ the shades ot 
evening were faUiiig. 

(]ood heavens, what a rami.l Not a l>lade of grass, 
not a drop of water! Again we sat in a mousetrap 
Ix'tween steep mountain walls, where, at any moment, 
devastating blocks might be detached from the sides by 
the frost.' The horses scraped about m the snow looking 
for grass During the night they roamed about, and 
stumbled over the tent n.pes. The thermometer fell to 
-^06°. One pui)i)V lost his way. got outside, and came 
of 'his own accord into mv tent; fortunately for him I was 
awakened by his whining, and gave him shelter in my bed, 
where he was warm and comfortable. 

A frosty morning! we mu>t take care not to touch 
metal, for it burns like 

mv tent and looked for . - 

basin To his great astonishment it stuck to his nose, am 
he took it a few steps with him. The hungry animals had 
consumed two emptv sacks and six ro])es during the night, 
and i)laved the mischief with one another's tails. In 
winter, life up here is a desi)erate struggle with the frost. 

The orders for the dav were to encamp in a place 
where there were stalks of yapcliau and burhc, and remain 
there all the next dav. I set out at a temperature of 
-23.8° and found the camp all ready on the right side ot 
the vallev. The animals were immediately sent up the 
sloi)es, and there grazed with a g.xxl appetite on the dry 
frozen stalks. During the dav of rest, pieces of ice were 
hewn out of the brook and melted in the two large kettles 
of the men. Horses and mules were then able to drink 

their till. • ,1 „ 

In the ni'dit a most welcome change took i)lacc in tne 
weather the "whole >kv was overcast, and the thermometer 
fell only to 1°; it felt (|uite warm in the morning. Some 
mules 'had stampeded. l:ut Lobsang found them after 

i-i;, „t „„.^r-ii T -"♦ ""* "''h Kutus soon after the 
a inhgent seari.a. 1 .-^ ' -v.... 

caravan. We had not gone far wlien we saw Muhamed 
Isa's white Shigatse horse lying frozen stilT in the snow. 



He had btcn in a rctihcd stati' for some days, and the 
last har(i>hips had been too much for liim. Worn-out and 
emaciated, he reallv needed a lon.i;, lonj,' rest. 

After a while we jjasscd the valley junction and the 
unlucky camp Xo. 2.S3. and were again on the great 
caravan route, the road of dead horses. Four lay in^ a 
ravine fiuite close together, as though they did not wish 
to jiart even in death. A large dapple grey showed no 
change', l)Ul another hor>e looked as if it were stuffed, and 
a ihini, with its out.-trelched legs, resem!)Ied an overtu.ned 
gymnasium hor^e. Some were nearly covered with snow, 
and others had fallen in a curious (ramped j)osition, but most 
of them lay as though death had surprised them when they 
were composing themselves to rest after violent exertion. 
Nearly all were hollow: the hide was stretched over the 
backbone and ribs, and they looked intact from the back, 
but on the other -^ide it could W seen that they were (jnly 
cmptv, drv skeletons, hard as iron, which rattled when the 
yellow dog. who had nothing else to eat on the way, pulled 
them aVxiut. The dogs barked at the first carcases, but 
soon they became familiar with the sight of them. What 
sulTerings and what desperate struggles for life these 
dreary mountains must ha\e witnessed in the course of 
time f Lving awake at night one fancii'S one hears ihe 
sighs of w()rn-f)Ut i)ack animals and their laboured breath- 
ing as they ])atiently go towards their end, and sees 
an endless parade of veterans condemned to die who can 
endure no more in the service of cruel man. When the 
dogs bark outside in the silent night they seem to bark at 
ghosts and ai)i)aritions who try with hesitating steps to 
make their way out of the snowfields that hoki them fast, 
and intervene between them and *he juicy meadows of 
Ladak. If any road in the world deserves the name "Via 
dolorosa," it is the caravan road over the Karakorum pass 
connecting Eastern Turkestan witli India. Like an enor- 
mous bridge of sighs it sjjans with its airy arches the 
l"ighe-l mountain land of A>ia and of die world. 

Higlier and higher our slow train a<cends the fissured 
vaiiey where here and there small glacier tongues iKvp out 
Ix'tv.een the steep crags. Frecjuently old camping-places 




h ' 



I,' I' ' ' 









arc seen with rippcd-up pack-saddlcs. Hurricanes from 
the south prevail here; fine red dust from weathered sand- 
stone flies Hke clouds of blofxl through the valley and 
colours the snowfields red. The valley shrinks to a hollow 
way where a somewhat more sheltered spot Ix'ars the name 
"Daulet liek uUdi" (where Daulet Bek died). Who was 
he? Xo one knows; but the name has remained. Prob- 
ably an ordinary trader from Khotan or Yarkand, or a 
pilgrim who died on his wanderings, and therefore found 
the doors of paradise wide open. For over the Karakorum 
pass runs the main pilgrim route from Eastern Turkestan 
to Mecca. 

The valley becomes ever smaller — a mere corridor 
Ix'tween walls of red conglomerate. This is the Kizil- 
unkur, or the Red Hole, an appropriate name. Here the 
caravan has pitched its camj). Not a sign of organic life. 
The animals stand in a group, and the mules gnaw at the 
frozx-n dung of former visitors. From this hole the way 
rises up to tlie Dai)sang plateau, where a snowstorm is now 
raging, and even in the valley flakes of snow dance and 
whirl in the air. In the twilight Fundup Sonam comes 
up with only twelve sheep; the others have Ix-cn frozen to 
death on the way. Night falls threatening and awful on the 
everlasting snow. Everything up here is so dreary and 
cold (16,824 feet); there is nothing living far and wide, and 
yet the yellow dog fills the ravine with his barking. 

The men set up the tents near together, and a very 
scanlv fire burned among them, for we had to be economi- 
cal with the firewood Irom Koteklik. The Mohammedans 
started a low charming song in rising and falling tones, 
and now and then a strong voice intoned a hollow "Allahu 
ekber." When T-ulam came with the brazier I asketl him 
what it meant, and he said that it was a uamas or hymn 
of prayer to .Mlah, that the Most High might protect us 
in the morning from the snov.-storm. For if a caravan is 
caught in a snowstorm on the heights of Dapsang it 

is lost. 

I often heard this melo<]ious hvmn again in days of 
hardship, and it always affected me painfully. Not as the 
reproachful warning clang of church bells ringing for ser- 



vice, when I pass a church door without going in, but 
because the men sang the hymn only when they were 
out of spirits and considered our position desperate. It 
seemed as though they would remind me that defeat 
awaited me, and that this time 1 had aimed too high. 



i < 




i it 


On Christmas Eve- 1005 1 had .lined nith Mr. and Mrs. 
Grant Duff in the h()S])ital)lc iMii^Hsh I-:ml)assy, and on 
another dav sui)i)ed with Cunt d'Apchier in the French Le- 
f^ation, ami was invited to a reception by Count Rex in the 
German Eml)as>v, - all in Teheran, now in such a disturbed 
stale. The same dav twelve months later I had still Mu- 
hamed Isa and Robert with me. and we were in inhabited 
countrv. Little I dreamt now that old Asia woulcl 
demand still anotlvr Christmas Eve in my life, am 
that on December 24, igo8, I should sit at table amid 
a circle of pleasant and intelligent Japanese in distant 
Mukden, where a few vears before the thun.'.ers of war 
had rolled above the j^raves of the Manchunan emperors. 
But this year. igoy. I was (juite alone, and with twelve 
satellites on the way to my Ukraine. 

In the mornin;4'with a bri;j:ht sun and calm \veather 
the caravan marched slowlv u]) towards the heit:;hts of 
Daii^anti, while Kutus ami I followed in the crunchin.i^ 
snow. "l had i^ivcn Alxlul Kerim orders to wait at the 
top. After I liad read the instruments and found a heu^ht 
of 17,808 feet. I scoured 'he horizon with my field -glass — 
a confusion of snowv mountains. Only to the north-east 
a broad erosion furrow .doi)ed i^ently down, and I chose 

that direction. 

"Now we leave the Karakorum route and ride cast- 

, .. X •! ..f II ... .,,.. 4 1- . T i.;il i-iM,. in front" 

uaiu>, I said; iwiiw-v, i.i; u.-.-. r. , •..> •.■•• •• -- 

The men stared in astonishment; they had looked lorward 
to the gardens ami vinevards of Khotan, and I oifered 



ru\p lAil 


thfrn the j^Tanitc and snowstorms of Clian;^ tan^^. 'I'lu-y 
said nothin-;, however. Init silently and patiently followed 
in my footsteps. It was not easy to lead the way, for the 
country was covered with deep snow. I directed Kutus, 
and he went before my horse to test the depth. The 
j^round was quite level, lait contained hollows where the 
snow lay 7, to 6 feet deej); and the cru>t was exceed- 
in<'ly treacherous, for sometimes it broke, and I was 
thro'wn out of the saddle, while the horse plun,-;e(l and 
Houndered like a doli)hin, and was almost sulTocated m the 
hne dry snow. We therefore turned back to try another 

Lobsimt,', who was always on the alert when wc- were 
in a critical situation, was already lookinj^ for a better way. 
Hut we must in any case cross the valley, and the men 
trampnl out a furrow in the snow, throuf^h which the 
animals were led one at a time. The horses managed 
best, while the mules often fell and caused long delays. 
How far would this .snow extend? It checked our 
progress and concealed any wretched pasture that might 
exis't in some ravine. We crawled on like snails. I went 
on foot, and mv skin coat felt as heavy as lead. Ikit after 
several hours of hard toil we reached the terrace skirting 
the right side of the valley, where the snow was thinner 
and we made more ])rogress. 

Camp \o. 287 was in the most desolate spot I can 
rememlxT in all my travels, except the simdy sea of the 
Takla-makan desert. Behind us our trail wound through 
the white snow and in front all was snow. The animals 
were tethered close together, and they had a feed of corn 
in the evening. 

After the dav's work was over I lighted two candles — 
usually I had but one — and set up the portraits of my 
familv on a box, as I had often done before on Christmas 
Kves'in Asia. At half-past eight o'clock the moon rose glo- 
riously over the mountains to the east-north-cast and at 
nine the thermometer had sunk to - 16.8°. I could not 
"ct the tom.nerature above — 4° in my tent, and my hands 
were so benumbed that I could not hold a book, but 
had to crawl into bed, which wa,s the best thing to do — 


-JT - - 11^ 










I i ' 







A horse lay frozen 

there one fori^ets Chri'^tmas with all its precious mem- 
ories and its melancholy soliluile. 

'The thermometer >ank to — ^7.5 
hard in his iilace in the line; the others sto(K 
with droopini^ heads, and .L,'real icicles on their noses. 
Christmas i-lve broii.t^hf us j^'ood weather. I almost lonj^ed 
for a snowstorm. We had no fear of pursuit, hut if a 
Turkestan caravan now went down to Kizil-unkur, the 
men would see our trail in the snow and report that we 
were oil to 'I'ibet. A snowstorm would obliterate all 

Meanwhile we stumbled on eastwards through the snow. 
A sprin<^ supplied water where all the animals got a drink. 
We halted in a ravine with tufts of yapchan (17,087 feet). 
The animals made greedily for the dry hard stalks, which also 
])rovided us with a grand tire, and this evening it was warm 
and comfortable in my tent. I rejoiced to think that the days 
would again become longer, and subtracted the length of 
each day's march from the distance between us and the 
Tong-tso. Ah, would we were there! And there we 
should be cjnly on the northern margin of the blank space. 
What an immensely long way we had to travel ! 

Xe.xt day we followed the same flat valley eastwards 
between mountains of moderate height, making use of a 
path worn down by Pantholops antelopes. The snow 
i)ecame less dec'i) and was only occasionally troublesome, 
usually covered with a crust as dry as parchment. When 
we had encamjjcd in a perfectly barren spot, I consulted 
with Al)dul Kerim. Only two sacks of bar'ey were left. 
I saw that he haci been weeping, and t'leretore I restrained 
my wrath. The others, too, were astonished and doleful. 
I had not yet .said anything to them, but they understood 
that there was no question of Khotan. The men had 
tsdinba for nearly three months and rice for two. I 
therefore ordered that .some should be given to the horses 
when the barley was finished, but enough should be left 
for the men to last two months. The others gathered 
outsitle tiic tent during the consultation. Lobsang was 
calm and unconcerned, and could be heard singing and 
whistling as he watched the animals. I took to him, 




perhaps iKxausc he was a Tibetan; hut I liked them all, 
for they were cai)ital fellows. In the evenint,' they s;in}^ 
hymns to Allah, knowing; that our situation was ex- 
ceedingly critical. 

Xext day we started early, ami I rode at the head of 
the caravan. We all had severe headaches, hut the hei>,'ht 
was enormous (17,644 feet). We liad marched little more 
than a mile whtn we fount] sparse ^rass in a sli,t,'ht hollow 
on the northein slopes. That was a ('hri>tmas Ixix. 
Here we pitched our cam]). The animals ran up to the 
pasture with their loads on. How they ate I It was 
a pleasure to see them. Suen cut ridiculous capers 
between the tents. The men were in hi<.,'h spirits. I 
heard no more hymns to Allah, but the caravan bashi, who 
seemed to think he was in some de;,'ree responsililc for the 
.'Spiritual welfare of all the Mohammedans, usually read 
every eveninj^ at sunset one of the live daily prayers. 
Our supply of fuel was at an end, but Lobsang found a 
hard moss which burned for a lonj^ time and gave out 
plenty of heat. Xow I perceived that when we should 
some time part, I should miss Lobsaii;^ most. 

On December 28, leaden clouds lay over the earth, and 
therefore the cold was less severe. We continued our 
cour'^e eastwards, and marched slowly till we came to a 
sprinf^, which at the orifice had a temperature of 33.6°. 
The water felt quite warm ; it formed large cakes of ice in 
the flat valley, which looked from a distance like a lake. 
While the men set up the tents here, Puppy, as usual, 
took charge of her young ones in a folded piece of felt. 
One of them had a white spot on the forehead and was 
my especial favourite, for he never whined unnecessarily. 
To-day he had opened his eyes and given a short glance 
at the cold inhosjjitable world around him. However, 
before my tent was ready, he (!ied quite suddenly, and was 
buried under some stones that the yellow fhig might not 
cat him up. Mamma Puppy looked for him, but soon 
contented herself with the last of the four. We would do 
all we could to keep this little creature. 

On the way to the next cainj^ing place, No. 2Q2, v.x- 
Still followed the same blessed vallev which had atTorded 




: 1 











US ^u(h an excellent route -inte Christmas The 
minimum temperature had falli n to -ii.H", a's thoufjh a 
cold wave were pa-Miv^' over the country. At one l)lace 
Sf)mf wild vak> had Kit tiieir vi^tini: canU, ami the men 
collected asaek of <hin,u. l.vidently tlu-u aninial> come 
hither onlv in summer; the winter is too cold even for 
them. A mule died before wi- reached a si)rin,L,' surrounded 
1)V fair <ira/.inj,'. So far we had ,uot on well, liut liad made 
little progress; on the iia>t six days we had covered only 
47 miles. 

Dieemher ,p. With a minimum of zero and a tempera- 
ture at one o'clock of .^2° the ranije between day and nii^dit 
is not j^reat. But now the sky was covered with dense 
clouds; It snowed and became half dark ; the men could not 
tell in which direction they were marchinj,'. and asked where 
the sun rose. We had the help of the lon,v;itudinal valley 
for another dav's journey, and we followi-d it down t() a 
junction of vallevs where there was a hu.^e sheet of ice. 
On the way I saw a llock of twenty-two wild sheep, which 
fled with fi'reat ability up a slope of detritus, bringing the 
stones rattling down. 

In the evening I informed Alxlul Kerim, Gulam, and 
Kutus that we were to advance into TilK^t and steer our 
course past the Arjiort-tso to the upper Brahmaputra. 
And 1 told them that I should travel in disguise in order 
to escape notice. They were amazed, and asked if I ihould 
not expose mv life to danger daily; but I calmed them, 
saying that rll' would go well if they only obeyed my orders 
iniplicitly. Our chief concern was to j)reserve our animals, 
for if the caravan were lost we shf)uld never get on. 
"Yes." answered the caravan bashi, "if we only find good 
pasture, so that the animals can rest and eat their fill, we 
can certainly hold out fcjr two months, but they will not 
bear long marches." 

Here we stood at a parting of the roads. Our valley 
opened into another, which came clown from high mountains 
in the south, part of the Karakorum range. The united 
stream.s ronfinued their course northwards, and could not 
be anv other river Imt the upper course of the Karakash 
Darya'; in its lower valley on the Khotan Darya I had 


()\ rilK ROOK OF i'llK Wokl.l) 


many viats Ixfori' alnio-t |n>t my life Now the (|U(>ti<in 
was wlutlur wc >hi.uM .U'l ii|) <»r (K.wii, and uc tltiidi'l to 
(Uvotr the la-t day <if llir vtar to lindiiit: out .vliicli was 
thf I'ltlrr load, -iiidin'4 out Alxlullali lo n coniioitrc -outh 
ia>t\vard-, Tuli^r^ north (■a>t\\ard>. .\> in aiiv ( a-i- wr 
should liavf to ini-s tlu- 'n\- sluit, a patli ua- -anditi. 

\\i- iia(ki(l \\'.c ')OO0 ruiuts Colotul Dunlop Smith 
had MHt from India in two .su ks. v.hich wirt- hj^htt r than 
thf uoodin Imixcn, ami tlu>e were to U- u-id a> firiwoinl 
-omctimr whin all iNc failrd. At cwry (amj) our l)anKagf 
Ik ( ami' li,i:htir, a-, our priAi-ion^ (liminislud, and I threw 
away one hook after another after I had read them. I had 
rice'ived from home the numhir^ of a Swcdi>h journal for 
hall a viar, an.l the-e were very u^-ful in li^htin-,' our 
camp firls. We had still nine s'hetp left, hut the time 
\\.i> fa>t ai.]>roaehin^' when our meat supply would come 
to an end, for we eould hardly reckon on fmdin-^ },'amc 

M) soon. 

New \'ear"s Dav igoS was hri^ht and sunny- a j^oo'l 
oiiun as re^'arded tlie dark riddles this year Kmcealed. 'I"he 
two >eouts returneil with the same report: that there wjTc 
no olistades in the way; and I let them di>euss the (luestion 
themselves, and di'dcje which way was the l)e>t. Tliey 
cho>e Alxlullah's route, which lei'l up the valli'y south- 
ea>tward>. The road heri' was excellent. At the mouth 
of the valley we found a coujile of >mall round stone walls, 
which, however, mi^hl very well have heen a hundml 
years old. The si.^ht of a dead yak had an enlivening 
effect on us, contradictory as it may r<ound. Higher \ve 
mounted to where a lofty snow mountain with glaciers 
could be seen at the end of the valley. Then we stop[)cd, 
and scouts were sent forwards. They declared that the 
wav was im])assable, and voted that Alxlullah should he 
thrashed. Hut as such measures would have been of iio 
use to us in our difficulty, he g(jt off with a go<Kl scolding. 
He admitted that he had not been so far up as we were 
now, yet on his return he had asked for, and been given, a 
bit of' tobacco for his reconnoitring work. I told him that 
he had done a nieun uick, and that he sliuuld never sec the 
smoke of my tobacco again. 



Fi 'i 



I n I 


25 » 



Tlurr wa-^ nothing to <i<) Init piith our camp. A strong 
>()Utli \vi-~t wiivl l)lr\v, and fiiu' miow was driven down from 
all tlif (tcst^ and Mimmits. When tlu- mtn went out to 
^MtlkT fuel thcv looked like Polar e\i)lorers. .After all, 
.\e\v Year's Dav had liroui^ht u> no gofHl luek, hut, on the 
Ktntrarv, a nireat. 

'I'liis was eomnuneed early on the morning of January 
2, and we pas^id a^ain eamj) 29.V ^i"'' marehed onwards 
over ^<lo|)es of ditritus on the eastern side of the ice sheet. 
At one si)ot si)rin^ water formed a littl- liuhliliiij^ fountain 
in the midst of tlie iee. After the valley had turned to the 
east north-east we eneatni)ed in a corner where driftsand 
was piled uj) into hillocks. 

I wanted to ^et out of this labyrinth of mountains and 
vallevs whi( h ])our their waters into Eastern Turkestan. 
We were still in the basin of tlie Karakash river, and must 
sooner or later cross a pass separatin^^ it from the salt lakes 
of the Chanty tan^. On the ^rd we aj^ain mounted up one 
of the head valleys and camped in its upper part, while the 
country was envelojjed in a furious snowstorm. It con- 
tinued till late in the evening, and what was most remark- 
able was that the sta'-s shone all the time though the snow 
was falling thickly. Before, there had K-en blue-black 
clouds above us w'ithout a snowllake. K.xtraordinary land ! 

.\e.\l day we rested. The animals had l)een without 
drink for a' long time, fuel was alnmdant, ice was taken 
from the river Ud ami melted in j)ots. 

In this region the mountains are less continuous, and 
form sharp ])eaks and ])yramids of small relative height. 
It snowed all night, but the morning of January 5 was 
fme as we travelled eastwartls along the route Kutus had 
invi'stigated. It led up over snow-covered ground to a 
small i)ass (17.005 feet), on the other side of which another 
branch of the Karakash crossed our course. We must get 
out of this entanglement, which delayed our march and 
lold on our strength. .\s long as the animals kept up we 
had nothing to com])lain of. I was glad of every day that 
!)r()UL'ht us a little n<'arer to spring and out of the winter's 
cold." It penetrated through everything. My feet had no 
feeling in them. Gulam rublx-d them and massaged me in 



ON rnK ROOF OF Tin-: would 


the cvcnin}^ ovor the fin-, but could not brini^ tlum to lifr. 
'I'ho ink was turmd into a lump of iic an<l hail to U* 
tha\vi'(l iK-fori' tlu' lirr; whrn 1 wroti" I hail to Innil owr 
thr bra/icr, and ^till tlu- ink coni^tak-d in tin- pin and fro/.o 
on thf j)ap<r. Sin^'ularly cnou;;h I have still an un(jUin( li- 
able (loin- for ire coM water and prtfir it to warm tea, but 
thr watir we usually f^ct is far from pUa^ant. It i^ j^'inc-rally 
Tubj^i's who takes a s])ade and lilU an impty >.i(k with 
snow, and then milt-> it in a kettle, (iulani triis to per- 
suade me to drink tea, and cannot understan<l how it is 
that I am not sick of water. It is no u>e Ixin^ thir^^ty in 
the night : a cup of wati r standing m ar the bra/.icr is 
frozen to the Ixittoni in a (juarter of an hour. 

After a teni|>erature of jS° and a >tormy night, which 
drove the anirruds to seik shelter in the men's tent, we 
crosM'd the broad valley up to the next pass. We left a 
lofty snow covered mountain to the south. At the foot of 
a hill a wild yak was musing. When he >aw our dark 
train against the white snow he made straight towards us, 
but Ufore long he took his way through the valley and 
(lashed in wild (light to the north, followed by our two dogs. 
It was very encouraging to find something living in this 
(ifxl-forgotten wilderness; for now we had lost even the 

It was a steep and slow ascent up to the pass, which 
had a height of 1S.005 feet. We were surprised to Imd that 
it was a snow limit, for east of the pass there was no 
snow Jit all. .As we descended the other side along a 
broad open sandy valley we had t(^ Ix- careful that we did 
not find ourselves without water in the evening. F'ar to 
the south appeared an ice sheet, but it lay too far out 
of our course. We therefore filled two sacks with snow 
from the last drift, encamped where thin tufts atTorded 
fuel, and sent five men with all the animals southwards to 
the ice in search of water and fodder. 

The water question now Ix'came [)ressing, for apparently 
we could not count on snow much farther. And we 
could not dig for water, as Ixfore, for the ground was 
iro;-;r!i ifito stone. We riiU^t therefore proceed cautiou>iv. 
We had a great open wilderness in 'ront of us; we must 

'^^■''^^ WM^^^:-"W^ 


Vi > , 

I 1 

\ i 

5 r. 


' M 


I . 

V i l^i 


256 TR.\XS-IIIMALAVA chap. 

make our wav from one ])oint of supjiort to another, and 
fxiilorc the routis in advance, lest we might come to a 
catastrophe. I therefore gave orders that, now that the 
loads were C()n>ideraltly >inaller, a coujilt' of our animals 
should (arrv snow or iie. At evcTV canij) we left an 
emi)ty meat-'lin. I think less of the time soon aiijmuiching 
when the evciUent goods from Simla v.ill come to an 
end than of the fact that the i>urdens of our animals arc 
daily becoming lighter. '!'he rock specimens I collect 
do not weigh mu(h. Of cour.-.e the i)rovender has long 
given out, hut where the ])asturage is stanty or altogether 
absent, loaves of parched meal are kneaded together for 
the animals. 

The men are to come back on the 7th, and we wait 
for them till midday. There, too, they come: the black 
group is i>lainly vi.Mb'le; they march and march, but come 
no ntarer. .\h, it is only some black stones dancing in 
the niiragt'. A little later Suen reports that M»me of the 
animals have run away, and conse<iuently we have to 
remain the whole day at this dismal camp. 

H(jw slowly the hours pass on a day like this I I am 
a prisoner in my own tent, for cold and wind keep me 
from work out of doors. As long as the sun is alK)ve the 
horizon I jiass the time very comfortably, for I can sec the 
mountains, silent, dreary, lonely mountains, where 
men never wander, and I .see the sarulspouts whirling 
along before the wind. Hut when the sun sets, the long 
winter evening begins, and I hear only the howl of the 
.storm without. I'atience ! Spring will come .sometime. 
livery dav that passes wo are a stej) farther from this 
horrible winter. Brown Pupj)y and her whelp keep me 
companv, and I look upon them as comraflcs in misfortune. 
She has her mat in a corner of the tent, and takes her 
meals when I do. The whelp we call Black Puppy amuses 
me immen-.ely. He has begun to take notice of the world 
and the life around him. When the big dogs bark outside 
the tent, he turn.-, his head and gives a feeble growl. 
When his mother leaves him on the mat in the cold, he 
m:>l;!>>; :!!■> nt'cniMt :!! a ].>ark and seems to think it strange. 
He wanders about the tent, though he is still .so unsteady 





on his legs that he constantly topples over. lie has 
already conceived a highly salutary respect for the brazier, 
and snifTs and shakes his head when he chances to come 
t<jo near it. Sometimes it happens that he misses his 
mother in the night, when there may be as many as 
!;4 degrees of frost in the tent; but his complaining squeal 
awakens me, and I take him under the furs — an attention 
he is very fond of. One morning lie wakened me by 
crawling of his own accord on :.) my pillow and trying to 
got into my bed. After that I felt no concern about his 
future; he must learn how to make his way in life, and 
that he was doing. 

On the 8th wc went over a small pass 17.569 feet high. 
A horse and a mule j^crished on the way. Camp 299 was 
pitched where the first {)asture was found, in a va'ley on 
the other side (16,946 feet). There was no water, but wc 
had four sacks of ice Seven sheep were left, and the 
raven had also come again 

The aim of our ne.xl day's journey was to find water 
for the animals. My trusty white Ladaki horse, which I 
always rode, used to get my washing water every morning, 
and I uscvl no soap that I might not spoil it for him. 
rVom a small in the ground we were able to enjoy 
the view I had .so longed for — the great o[)en plain we 
had crossed in the autumn of 1906. To the east-.south- 
ea>t I ea.sily recognized the sf)ur wc [)'d then, and 
wc coul(' not be more than two days' march from the 
.\ksai-chin lake. I had now followed for several ('ays 
much the same route as Crosby, and at the lake I should 
cross my own route of 1906, after wliich we .should go 
down towards the, and, as last year, intersect 
the paths of Bcnver,, Rawling. and Zugmeycr. 

The whole country lay under a vault of dense clouds. 
After a march of only 3 miles we found a flowing spring of 
beautiful water (2,^,°), where camp \o. 300 (16,329 feet) was 
f>itched. In the evening my servants sang bright and happy 
melodies again, and Suen pcrformerl his most ridiculous 
dances. We were again up on the rfK)f of the world, and 

..11 .1 T^.'U.i I -V f- r-i 1" •■- C!- ■■' ! ^- -Ll_ .. 

a:: •;;-...;;;, iiwCt u:;, iVi iiwHt :;: Ui. oiiUUiv.i .1 e Ije ilOie to 

cross it with our little caravan ? 

VOL. II g 




With fresh blocks of ice in our sacks \vc set out on 
January lo strait^Iit towards the i)rojecti<)n at the foot of 
wliich cam]) 8 had been phched, and where I knew that the 
grass was t^ood. The ;^'reat level barren plain stretched 
lu'tween u- and the spot, and ..e had 15 miles to cover. 
The wind was ljv)i>terous, and we were frozen through 
in a minute. In the lee of tiie caravan, which went in 
advance, lay a cloud of dust like smoke. The yellow hue 
of the grass could be .-^een from a distance, and the sight 
.so refreshed my men that they began to .sing on the 
march. The animals understood that they were coming 
to good ])asturage, and fjuickened their pace without any 
.shouts from the men. The tents v.-cre .set up in the same 
place as year, and here I closed my long circuitous 
route through Tibet. It was with a melancholy feeling I 
.saw this j)lace again, where Muhamed had rai.sed his 
tall cairn. Xow wc had avoided all dangers from Rudok, 
and we mindecl little that England and Russia had 
promised each other not to let a European into Tibet for 
three years. The height here was 16.19S feet. 

For several days I had spoken of this f)lace with its 
good j)asturage, and when we broke u]i our camp on the 
nth I was able to promise my men a still better camp for 
the next night. Th.ey were astonished that I was so 
much at home in these dreary regions. The track of the 
great caravan of i()o6 was blown away by the passage of 

. 1 ... .1- \1 • 1.:„ 11. ' „ ,....^n '.nt^ 

ill.:;;', r-mi :;;:., ;:ii; ;;n.- .\^:x!i i ;;:;i ;.iur .-i.-wn ic:i::v ii:t.-.> 

sight, its surface looking grey and dismal in the chilly 



^ t «> 


'rl ,w«i?»i»^^'^ 






'-i*?^ ^ 



;c * 


. 1 






weather. Six kiang spoors converged to the fine spring 
of fresh water near the shore, where we kindled our fires 
among the same stones as hist time. Pasturage and fuel 
are abundant in the neighiiourhood ; it is a veritable oa.sis 
— the camp we had had since Koteklik. Hut the 
storm still raged, and the salt waves rose high over the 
lake, cooled down to 20.7°, though there was no sign of 
ice. In the night it snowed hard again, :'nd on the 12th, 
which was made a day of rest, the lake lay blue amidst a 
landscape of shining white (16.171 feet). 

When all goes well the Mohammedans read no prayers. 
Probably they think that wlien we can help ourselves it is 
unnecessary to di.sturb Allah. 

We had to pay a horse as toll for the good pasturage. 
He lay frozen hard in the camp on the morning of the 
13th, after a night temperature r' —18.4°. The yellow 
dog remained beside him, and when he came late at night 
into the ne.xt camp, he was so fat and putTed up that it 
was evident he had stored up fo<xl for several days. Two 
ravens followed us with their hoarse croaking. Snow fell 
thickly and hid the view. A herd of antelopes flisappeared 
like shadows in the mist. A sheep died on the way, and 
two more had to Ix: killed, for they were worn out; we 
had now only three left. The cold penetrated everywhere 
in the night, and 'he thermometer sank to —T,f. 

On January 14 we made south-eastwards over a plain 
of soft, tiring ground, which caused us the loss of a mule. 
The caravan moved very slowly forward and in close 
order; the animals marched more comfortably when they 
were together; those which would linger behind, overcome 
with fatigue, were driven forwards 'ly the Ladakis. At 
camp 304 the grass was poor, and two mules seemed to 
Ijc near their end. The cold was fearfully .sharp in the 
night. The thermometer fell to —39.6°, or nearly to 40 
degrees below zero, and almost to the freezing-point of 
mercury. That was the lowest temperature I ever 
recorded in all my journeys in Asia. 

But January 15 brought a fine morning and an Italian 
blue "sky. Alxiul Ktrim and ail llie (jIIh 1 Mcjhaininedaiis 
waited on me, in a tragi-comical procession, with dried 






apricots and almonds, and a simultaneous cry of "Aid 
mubarck," (ir "A hk'sscd Festival." One uf the festivals 
of Islam fell on this day. K.xeeedingly comical was the 
procession of the four Lamaists, who came u\) as the others 
retired; and Lobsan^'. who led them, took off his cap and 
scratched his hiad in 'I'ibetan fashion, but did not init out 
his tongue he had no doubt learned in Leh that this per- 
formance was not i)leasinf^ to a European. I gave them 
lo rupees each and handed the caravan bashi a walch, which 
he was to wind up well every evening to be sure of the time. 

On we marched again, moving slowly, f(jr the ground 
rose. We jiroceeded like a funeral procession, and Suen 
was the parson. There was no longer reason to fear 
thirst, for half tlie country was covered with snow. Hut 
every mile cause<l us a struggle, and it was long before we 
came to the cliff we were making for. We left a huge 
snowy massive on the right hand. 

Xe.xt day's march took us over a flat saddle to a small 
side vallev 'where there was .some grass. The temperature 
had been down to -29.9°. and I coukl not by anv means get 
life into my feet. Sometimes they ached, sometimes there 
was an uncomfortable ])ricking in my toes, and then again 
they all feeling. During the day's we allowed 
ourselves in camj) 306 Tubges shot an antelope and an 
Ovis Ammon, a feat which prolonged the lives of our last 
two sheep. In the evening the men were cheerful and 
hopeful as thev sat around the flesh-pot. 

Gulam Razul had presented me with six 1x)ttlcs of 
whiskv, which, sewed up in thick felt, had Ix-en brought 
all the wav; for Ladakis maintain that wlicn a mule shows 
signs of exhaustion and weakness it can be cured by ginng 
it' whisky or other spirits. But the bottles were heavy, 
so three of them were emptied and set up as a memorial 
on some stones. Perhaps sometime or other they may be 
found bv another traveller. The other three were kept. 

On the 1 8th we continued to follow the same longi- 
tudinal vallev. All the ranges in this country run east 
and west, the u.sual direction in Tibet. To the right was 
a lofty range we must cross if we would tra\el south-east- 
wards'. Through a gap in the northern mountains was 




visible to the north-cast the mit,'h,y snowy dome we had 
passed to the rif^ht of in 1Q06. Eastwards there seemed 
to be no ol)stacle in the way, but we (hverj^ed soutl)-east- 
wards up a valley. Before we encamped (Illustrations 
301, ^o()) another mule had fallen, and then we had lost 
a fourth of the caravan. 

Next day we proceeded further up the valley. Some- 
times it was only 10 yards broad between solid hf)rizontal 
terraces. Below a steep cra<:^ lay five pot-stones, and 
therefore Tibetan hunters must ha--e come thus far. The 
Ladakis were delit,'hted to meet with si^ns of human 
beinj^s ai,'ain. The valley o])ened out into an extensive 
l)lain, and a gap was seen to the scjuUi-east, but as the 
ground was lower towards tiie east we turned our steps in 
that direction. Erom the low threshold the view was 
anvthing but encouraging — a world of mountains. We 
resolved to encamp where we were (17,405 feet high) and 
to try the other, southern, pa.ssage ne.xt day. 

A miserable camp ! The storm raged so violently that 
the tents could hardly be set up, and the iron tent-pegs 
beat together and rattled until they were fixed. We had 
first to make a fire before we could use our numbed hands, 
and a small stone wall had to be raised to {)revent the fire 
from being carried away. Xow Xature and the elements 
were against us, whereas we might in the future expect 
opposition from man. The pasture was wretched, and a 
grey horse and the last mule from Poonch lay dead in the 
morning. It was the senior of the veterans, for it had 
come with me all the way from Srinagar and had done 
gcKxl service, and I was grieved at losing it. Xow there 
was only one creature left which hacl seen the first 
beginning of the caravan, namely, our bnnvn Pu[)py. She 
and the little puppy kept me company in this oppressive, 
weary solitucle. 

Erom cam[) 309, where we stayed a day, there was an 
uninterrujjted view over another longitudinal valley, to the 
south of the former. There lay a contracted salt lake. At 
almost every camp, as on the former journey, I drew a 
panorama of tlic :>urr!!uridirigs, and tried sometimes to 
paint small water-colour drawings (Illustration 302). Then 












1 h;ul to sit in the oiK'ninj; of the tent and hold the block 
over the fire to prevent the brush freezinj^ into a lump of 
ire. Hut the sky, whit h should have been of an even blue 
or j^rey tone, usually turned into a film of ice with stranf^e 
stars and crystals. 

In cain]) 310 we also remained a day, for the pasture 
was better tlian we had found for a lon^ time. The 
{,Tew in sand on the shore of a small freshwater lake with 
a free oi)eiiin.t,', where at lenj^th the animals fjot a Rood 
drink after havin<^ had to quench their thirst with .snow. 
We had travelled 188 miles since Christmas Eve, or alK)Ut 
6.J miles a day on an average — a terribly slow pace. Now 
we had had a' furious storm for three days, and here yellow 
whirls of sand Hew over the ice and the wind moaned an<l 
rustled throui^'h the «,Tass. Alxlul Keriin sewed together 
a long Mohammedan coat for me, which I was to wear 
under my fur when I assumed my disguise. 

On fanuary 24 the whole country was covered with 
dazzling snow and the sun shone, but a .stormy blast drove 
the fine snow particles in streaks over the land, and a 
roaring sound wa-- heard, .\ntelopes careered lightly over 
the ground, dark against the white snow. A mule died on 
the way; not even Tibetan mules can bear this climate. 
I was benumlx'd and half-dead with cold before I reached 
the camp. 

After a temperature of —21.3° the neighlxiurhood was 
enveloped in semi-darkness by heavy clouds. The jagged 
mountains to the .south reminded me of a squadron of 
armoured vessels at gunnery practice in rainy weather. 
Their grey outlines i)eei)ed out from the low clouds. The 
valley was about 6 miles broad. Towards the the 
snow lay less thickly, and finally only the footprints of wild 
animals were filled "with snow, like a string of pearls in the 
dark ground. 

As I turn over the leaves of my diary of this terrible 
journey how often I come across the remark that this was 
the hardest day we had hitherto exi)eriencc(l. And yet 
days were always coming when we suffered still more. Sc 
it was on Januar) 20. The sky was covered with such 
compact clouds that we might fancy we were riding under 


':;^- 'i^^iTxr^-'mmm^'^ -<^^ 

YJ> Cwii' 

:,o-. (' \Mi' ;,;, 'rill r.i '-i 

nmm; c'l \ Si"H\i. 

pS. Cwii' ,.;>- '•' ^" '" '^' 

iKim; l^\-r. 

N'i'K I H. 

Is nil Ki'i'M.kni SI) 


H \kl \k-i>l-'-(H \l> 1 \-lS\M.I'l 






\ 1 


FORTY I)i:gri-:i:s hklow zero 


a prison vault. 'Vhv storm rajjol with undiminishcij 
violi-ncc, and a quarti-r of an hour aftrr I had mounlc-d my 
horse I was Ixnunilnd and powrrk'ss. My liands ached, 
and I tried to tliaw my ri^lU liaml hy breathing on it 
whenever I hail to take a note, but after readinj^ the 
compass for two seconds my hands lost all feelinj^. My 
feet troubled me less. f(tr I had no feelinj^ at all in them. 
I only hoind 1 sh<iuld reach the camp Ix-'fore the bhuKl 
froze in my veins (Illustration 305). 

Then we come at length to the Arport-tso and leave 
the northiTn basin of the lake on our left, while a large 
basin swells out like a fjcjrd tow;'.rds the south. A moun- 
tain spur sends out a cape into the lake, which has a very 
irregular outline. It .stands in our way. vShall we leave it 
on the right or left? We lome up to the middle of the 
lake shore and wait while I-ob.sang goes to .see if the 
caravan can travel over the ice. He hurries forward and 
makes us a sign to follow. We go down to the beach and 
along a spit which narrows down to a fine point. 

Here the ice on our left hand has been piled up into 
hummocks, 6 feet high, of grand transparent green flat 
slabs, but on the right, as far as we can .see over the 
southern ba.sin, the ice .spreads its level smooth sheet of 
a beautiful dark green colour like leaves of laurel and lilac. 
We feel the usual fascination of the ice. and stand and stare 
down into the dark cokl depths. Drifting .snow .sweeps 
like comets' tails over the smooth course. We .stand on 
the very point of the promontory, with the narrowest part 
of the Ar])ort-tso in front of us, for the lake is contracted 
like a wasp's Here there are fences, walls, and 
barriers rai.scd by ice pressure, and between them sncnv 
is drifted up, hard and dry on the surface. It would have 
Ix-cn quite impossible to march over the bare ice; the 
caravan would have been carried away like chaff before the 
wind. But the .sninv atTords us an excellent path. Lob- 
sang leads the way, guiding us in many a wind, but we 
get and come to the farther shore at the foot of 
a clilT. 

Worse followcil, for tlic rocky piiint fell straight down 
to the lake on its eastern side, and here we had slippery 




ll* ! 


ice swept dear of snow wliic li we smdni. One horse or 
mule afur another sh|>pe(| and fell. Some of them made 
no attempt to ^ct up aLjain. l)Ut wen dra^'^ed over the ice 
to firm ground, where their loads were put on a^ain. Some 
fell with a luaw thud on the hard ireaeherou.> ice. We had 
t(j (loul)lr a whole scries of points in this way till we came 
to one where further |iio^'res> was im[)os>il)le, for at its foot 
issued I'orlh sprin;,'s whii h iipmIui cd lar;,'f openings in the 
i( e. 'I'lure iey cold w.ives IkmI with ii sharj) sound aj,'ainst 
the ei|,L;es of the ice under the lash of the wind, which 
drove lontinually douils of snow dancing like elves ovct 
the (lark ^reen I'leld of i(e. We had to stru^j,'le uj) over 
stee|) slo|>es till at last we readied, thorou;,'hly tired out, 
an inkt where a few leaves of ^'rass <;ri'W. Wo had left a 
mule on tile ice, and two men went hack and ^ave it a drop 
of whisky so that it could come on to the camp, liut my 
brown horse from Shii^atse, whii h had so often carried me 
u]) to the east <,Mte of I'aslii lunpo, rcm.iined behind for 
j,'ood. It is sad and deprrs>int^ when a vileran dies. 

Arport-tso lit's at a heij^ht of ij-.^Sj feet. The water, 
which was drawn from an oi)ening in the ice, was ([uite 
potable. Tiiere was a hi,L,'h i)ass in front of us to the but we could not reach it in oni- day. and we 
(ani|)ed on the i)lain at the south-east of the lake where 
Kawlinj.; had on( e stayed. It was litMe more than a mile 
thither, but the ijrass was jfocx] and the animals needed 
nourishment. It snowed thickly all day. It \v-s warm 
and comfortatjle under cover, and we pitied lice poor 
animals which were >ut {^razing in the cold. The small 
])Up|)y had grown so much that he could wander alone 
between the tents watching for an opportunity to steal 
meat. A shee[) was slaughterefl. 

At night the cold was more severe again, anrl the 
thermometer sank to —30.3°. The .sick mule .sought .shelter 
behind the men's tent, lay down at once, and gave vent to 
a piteous .sound. I went (jut to look at it, and caused it 
to be jHit out of its misery. 

On the morning of the 2Sth we found two horses dead 
f^n th.e izniss. One w'as one of th.e veter-ans of Leh. which 
Robert had ridden, and wiiich bore me to the .springs 






, r 

1 H 


1 ■ ' 




i ^ 


' i 





in ihc Sutkj lied. Wc hail miw only iwftity Uutl' animals 
Kft. and my small whitr Eadaki was tlu' last of ihr vi'trrans. 
Little I tliiiiiL;Iit, as he carried me over tlv Chanj,' lunj^ 
yof^ma, that he would survi\e a hundred and t'lt'ty Kjmrades. 
livery morniii^,' two lonj^ icicles hunt,' down iVom his nostrils. 
IL' was taken great care of, and I always saved a piece of 
bread from my hreakt'ast for him. I had a ])arlieular affec- 
tion for him and for brown Pui)i)y. They had hi en with 
me so loni,', and had passed throuj^h .so many adventures. 

A lo» of three animals in one day was serious for .such 
a caravan as ours. How would it all end? We had .still 
an distance before us. We strug<^led f(;r three 
hours with halting steps u|) this terrible pass, which had a 
height of 18,281 feet. We encam])ed in the shelter of a rock 
and killed the last worn-out sheep, and then had no more 
live store of meat. 

The temi)eraturc fell to -24.5°, and the first sound I 
heard in the morning of the jgth was the everlasting howl 
of the storm. We marched south-ea.stwards thn-ugh .snow 
a foot deei). "One of our days," it is .styled in my 
diary. We cared about nothing e.\cei)t to get to our camj) 
alive. I had a s( arf wound several times over my face, 
l)Ut it was quickly turned into a .sheet of ice, which cracked 
when I turned my head. I tried to .smoke a cigarette, but 
it froze on to my lips. Two horses died on the way, and 
Alxlul Kcrim's horse took over the load of one ol'them, 
while the man him.self went on foot like the others. I 
followed the track of the caravan with Kutus. Then we 
found Kunchuk Sonam and Suen unable to go further; 
they sulTered from pains at the heart. I tried to cheer 
them up, and promised to give them medicine if they would 
follow slowly in the track of the caravan. Was it now the 
turn of the men after half the caravan had been lost? 
Quite overcome with fatigue they hobbled at twilight into 

Abdul Kerim came into my tent very down and 
asked if we should fall in with nomads within ten days, for 
otherwise he con.sidcred our condition desperate. In truth, 
I could give him no ronsolation, but could onlv tell him 
tliat we must go on as long as there was a single' mule left, 






and then try to rlrap; ourselves alon^ to the nf)macls with as 
much food as we eould carry. Xow we thoui;lit no longer 
of pursuers behind, or of dangers before us, hut only 
wished to preserve our lives and come to lountry where 
we coukl find means of subsistence. Behind us the snow 
obliterated our tracks, and the future awaited us with its 
impenetrable secrets. 

^' II 






' The storm howled round us all night long, and our thin 

tent canvas lluttcrcd in the blast. Gulam awaked mc with 

the information, "It is nasty weather to-day; we can sec 

nothing." Even the nearest mountains were hic'len by 

the snow, and if I had not alreaiiy taken a bearing along 

^ the valley in the direction .south, 35° E., we could not have 

•a set out. This day, January 30, we had to keep together, 

^ for the driving sncjw obliterated the tracks immediately. 

5 We had two leaders, and I rode along the trail, which 

at first was marked as a black winding line, but farther on, 

where the snow lay 2 feet deep, no ground or rubbish 

.i could be .seen. A brown horse which carried no burtlcn 

S lay down anfl died in the snow. \Vc could see the show 

_ making ready its grave before it was cold. It vanished 

behind us in the dreadful solitude. 

VV'c move forwards at a very slow pace through the 
snowdrifts. The fury of the storm carries away the 
warning shouts from the lips of the guides and they do 
not reach our cars; we .simply follow the trail. Lobsang 
goes first, and he often disappears in the dry loose snow 
and has to seek another direction. In the hollows the 
snow lies 3 feet deep, and we can take only one step at a 
time after the spades have cut us a ditch through the snow. 
One or other of the animals is always falling, and the 
removal of his load and readjusting it causes a block, for 
all must follow in the same furrow. All, men and animals, 
are half-dead with fatigue and lalx)ur for breath. The 
snuw sweeps round us in sufTocating wreaths; we turn our 





t ' 




backs to the winrl and lean forwards. Only the nearest 
mules arc plainly visihlc, the fifth is indistinct, and those 
at the front are seen only as slight shadows amidst the 
universal whiteness. I cannot catch a f,'limpse the 

j,'ui(lcs. Thus the trooj) ])asM ^ ( n a few steps till .mes 

to the next block, and when tlir mule immediately in ironl of 
me moves on aj^'ain it is only to j)luiiL;e into a Jiollow filled 
with snow, where two men wait to keep up its The 
direction is n<nv cast and the ^Tound rises. A few such davs 
and the caravan will be lost (Illustration 312). 

At len,i,nli we come to a low pass (18,268 feet high). 
Even at sea-level such a journey would be hard cnouj^h, 
but how much wor>t' it is in a country which lies .some 
hundreds of feet hi,!L,'her than Mont lUanc, and where there 
is nothini,' but ^'ranite. On the eastern side of the saddle 
the snow lay 3 feet deep in some i)laces, and it seemed as 
thouL^h we should be stuck fast in the snowdrifts; and what 
had we to e\i)ect then .^ For the provender was cominj; 
to an end, and we must <:,o on if we would find jxisture. 
Xow we went gently down, the .snow became a little less 
deej), and we came to an expan.sion of the vallev where 
there were stretches of j;;round swe[)t bare by the blast. 
On the right appeared a slope where Abdul Ke'rim thought 
he saw blades of grass sticking uf) out of the .snow, and "he 
asked {)ermission to camp. It was dilTicult to .set up the 
tents that evening. At dusk the two sick men came up, 
their faces blue and swollen. 

A miserable camp! The .storm incrca.sed to a hurri- 
cane, and nothing could be heard but its howling. When 
I looked out of my tent I could .sec nothing that was not 
white, and there was no difference between the ground, 
the mountains, and the sky — all being alike white. Not 
even the men's tent could be distinguished in the driving 
snow. The fine particles penetrated into the tent and 
covered everything with a white powder. It was impos- 
sible to look for fuel, and at three o'clock the temperature 
in the tent was 1.4°. I could see nothing living outside, 
and I might have been quite alone in this wilderness. 

My tru.sty Gulam comes, however, at length with fire, 
for Lobsang and Scdik have found some brushwood^ 











(luhim says that Sotiaiii Kunchuk is ready to lay hinisi'lf 
down on ihc snow and die, hut I advise him to take a 
<,'ood dose of (juinine instead. Late at ni.^Iu tlie tones of 
the hymn to Allah reat h my ears, sounding .softer and 
sadder than usual amid the rai^'inj,' of the storm. We are 
movin<^ t(;war(ls a dark destiny, I have attempted too much, 
and any moment the catastroi)he may come. We are 
snowed up here, the animals mu.>t die of star^■ation, and I 
myself - well, it is liut a (jUi.>tion of time. 

A little Ixlow the camj) the valley made a turn to the 
ri.L,'ht. Thither the animals had <;one at r.ii,'ht, hut 
hark as there was no <.,'ra/.in<,'. A <;rey mule had stayed 
hehind to die. !t lay in a curious po.sition, as thou<,'li it 
had died in the act of ,t;etlinj^ up —on its knees with its nose 
])ressed aijain.^t the .t^Tound, and was fro/.en hard in this 
l)osition. Vet the temperature fell only to - 16.4°. 

The storm continued with undiminished violence on 
January ,v We loaded the nineteen mules and hor.scs 
and marched down the valley at random in the .same 
.snow. The snow came down in incredihie quantities; 
such a snowstorm I had never witnes.sed even on the 
Pamir. We could not travel more than 2^ miles, and 
then we halted anfl [)!tchefl the tents, which looked dirty 
a^'ainst the pure snow. Four hi-,' wild yaks were moving; 
over the .slopes, tramj)ing like .snow plouj^dis. The dogs 
made after them, hut soon gave up the chase, for they could 
not go far in the drifts. The animals received their allow- 
ance of rice, and then trailed ofl to a hill where they poked 
ahout for the scanty grass. 

I examined all the haggage with the heli) of .Mjdul 
Kerim and Gulam, and discarded all that could he spared. 
I'nnece.s.sary clothing and worn-out ho ts were l)urned, 
and reserve garments were hrought out. My articles, 
note-books, and instruments were stulTed into two small 
sacks. Writing materials and other things for dailv 
were packed in a small handhag from Stockholm.' The 
other chests were used as firewood, when the men had 
stripped ofT the leather coverings to make new shoe-soles. 

Even the hnv for thr- rMdl-imr nn.nei'l^- .,r%r\ iUr. ,,-^. .,,.;„„ 

boxes were burned, and all the baggage was henceforth 








1 1 

I i' 


rarrii'd in sacks. Hy this means the loads were made 
h'f^'hter anil more (onvcniiiu, tiioiij^di there was more 
trouble in turning,' everythiiii,' out of a sack when any- 
thin;^ wa^ wanted from the bottom. 

In the afternoon there was a short break in the .snow- 
storm. Heyond the white limits of the valley was seen 
to the -South-east the larj^'e lake, with a 
dark purple sky above it, presa^'in<^ more snow. I took 
bearings of the ne.xt day's route, and it was well I did so, 
for .soon the .sn(jw bef.,'an to fall aj^'ain unusually thickly. 
It .snowed all day and all nit^'ht, and a swishini^ .sound was 
heard as the snowllakes were driven by the wind aj^' 
the canvas of the tent and from time to time .slipped 
down. In the morning of February i piles of .snow lay 
round the tents. The minimum temj)erature was only 
-0.8°, and it felt (juite pleasant. We loaded our weary- 
hungry {)ack animals and marched slowly south-eastwards. 
The gale blew from the south, and the .snow pelted on to 
our faces. 

Silently and heavily the fainting troop moved on 
towards the lake. All the men's U-ards and mou.staches 
were whii with rime, and we seemed all to have turned 
grey in a night. Alxlul Kerim walked in front with his 
staff, but he took a wrong direction, and I chose another 
leader. In some i)laces we were nearly suffocated in the 
snow, and the crestfallen men stood in the drifts, at a 
loss what to do. Hut we plunged and floundered on a 
bit, and then stood .still; then a little bit further. The 
pass over which we had made our way the previous 
day was no doubt blocked by snow. Had we reached it 
two days later we should never have forced a way over it. 
Xow our retreat was cut off, and we must seek safety 
.southwards. It was some consolation to know that we 
had burned our ships. 

Fortunately the ground sloped down, and as we toiled 
on hour after hour the .snow diminished and travelling 
became ea.sier. But the .storm, which had now raged for 
a fortnight, showed no signs of abatement. Down on the 
western flat by the lake die snow mantle was thin, and v.e 
encamped in a spot where the grass was not bad. I 


\i2. "Ik 1111^ c(iMi\rK> \ nu iivs'- i.on'IK, uk \ki kki. 





,1 it 





l-\' lUE SXoW 

the men some cigarctt 



IN cvcrv 


smoknl yak-duiiK and 'lill,,| ,i 

cvcnini; -at other ti 





'I'hc ni-'ht 

was unusually mild, with tl 

ic minimum 
as di'n>f as 

temperature only ? ->" hnf fl,o , i , i 

«cuml ov„ytl,i„K Iha. c„ul,l rtv "^^u. "™'"? ' 

ovcrthr„«n. In i|,, „„„,„„ a I k .,„iJ 1 h , '" 

zzi. *"" "^ '^''^'■™^ i-'^. which'";;.; ru,hf:i!; 



C'llAI'TIlK I.X 





SriDDin wiih twinklini,' st;ir> tin- winter sky sfrctdidl its 
(lark Mill' (,in(i|)y ()\rr our luiu-onu' canii), and 50 (Icirri'i-s 
(if fniNt torctold a (liar d.iy. ( )n I'"(l)ruarv j iint a cloud 
hoMTcd o\(r liif mountain^, aivl this plateau, ahandoncl 
\>y Kod> and men. uhi' li had lately Incn luiried undiT 
the white ^hroud of winter, at,Min illutnine(l liv liri^'ht 


ni w- 

wa-- hroiii^'ht ine m the morning' 

a hor>r and a mule lay (\i\u\ luMde thi- tent^. With the 
.seventeen reinainini,' animals we (oiitinued our journev aloni; 
tlu' irrejiular northern >hore of the Shemen t-^o ( lO.j^f) feet ). 
Tlu' (juantity of snow heeanie le^,, ami at (.imp :^20 the 
},'ravelly ^miund was alnio-t hare. The view over the lake- 
was <,M-an(|. Ciptain R.iwlint,'".-. nia|) of thi> district is 
e\e(Uted with ,L,' accuracy. 

On Inhruary 5, al^o. we encamped on the --hore of the 
i^nvat lake, having followed the curves of it> Imvs and 
(apes. .\ mule died on the way. Thouuh we had burned 
all we could (li>i)ense with, yet tlie lo.ids wen- nnu li too 
heavy for the survivint; animals. .\ liii; stroma mule 
always led the van. at the heels of (iulatn; it carried at 
lea>t two ordinary loads, and yet was fat and fresh. 'I'herc 
wa> no >iL,'n of human l)ein,i,'s. .\ ilock of jackdaws were 
parched on a cra^. .\l the camp the provisions were 
in>pecti'd. and we decided to relin(iui<h three heavy sacks 
of ri( e. The rite was to lie Ljiven on the foUowini^ davs, 
mi.xed with parche(l meal and water, to the animals. Of 
my pro\i.-ions. only two ho.xes of tinned meat, .some jam 
and l)i>cuits, were left. We had not tasted meat for some 

cinr .V i)i;\iii (»i nil: \.\sv \i:i i:k\\ 


time. I lie -tiirtii raijnl all 'l>i\ ami tlir suti liaij vaiii^lidl 

( )i) iVhru.irv () uc pa^M'd a vitv atmr Tit ^|irin'4 
of waliT at a ti nipt ralurr nf \<t2^. wliiiii |H)urri| iiitu tile 
lalsf. ThiTf tl<)( IsN lit' >lii(|i IkhI rtdtitly dnink. and low- 
of (airn- ran trntn tlic -hurc to u'uidc antilniK'-- into the 
trap- in the ground. \ou no L;anir \\a- Mi-n t\((pt a 
siri^lc kiaiii,'. A ninlt dicil. and AUIiil Knini^ \tllov\ 
lior-^f l'( II liy till- ua\. ()nly foiirticn aniniaN n ai hid thr 
i,ini]> thi> ilay, and "t tlu--c inv >niall vdiitc l.adaki wa^ in 
llu- wor-t pliL'lit ; 111' -tuniliKd ami fill, and I made a 
Som(r>ault ovrr hi- hiad. 

The day aftiT, v.i inado a -hurt jouriuy, Kft thr laki' 
and it^ Iiarnn >hon lnhind iH. and -tt up our ti'iit-- amid 
^oo<| ;,'ra--. 'I'lu- uiatlur \va-< t'liii", at one o\ lo( k thr 
ti'iniHTaturc was 14', and it fi'It a-> thoimh spring had 
( onir. All the aniiiiaU lay down to ri'-t and warm tlum 
S( lvr> in thr -un. ( 'nly my -mall Ladaki Ixt^an to f^razc 
immi'iliatcly ; hv would not dir. hut would follow mi' to llii' 
end. Wild a--(-> and antrlo])ts ^'ra/nl on thr -trppr, and 
harts wrrc plriiliful. 1 wa- alarmid by a mi>-a.i;i' that 
three men (ould Ih' seen at somi- dir-tanii- to the north, 
and the laravan t)a-hi wi-hed me to lome and examine 
them throuu'h mv tuML:la--. Api);;r"ntlv thev were on 
the way to our ram]i. lUit 1 had jilentx- of time to put on 
my di-uui-e. I w.itihe(l them a lon;^' time, till at la-t they 
turned into three wild yaks which had Inen lengthened 
out liy niirat,'e. We had no need yet to trouble our>elves 
abnut men. but perhajjs these vak- weri' forerunners. 

Xow \ had rid<lcn my small white hor>e for the last 
time. ( )n ['"ebruary S, when we rontinued our man h 
ea-t -outh-ea-t after a minimum temjjerature f)f — 1^.9°, he 
followeil the (aravan loose and unladen, and fell even with- 
out a ridt r. I nxle insteail a tzrey horse from Tik/e. 
Ue made barely 5 miles, but yet the journey was full of 
events. ( )n the other -ii|e on a low hill stofxl a I'antholops 
antelii[)e. whi( h did not run away though we were (|uite 
clo-e. We soon notiied that it was held fast and wa.s 
r-li u.LjuiinL,' to L,'el tree. Tile do<,'s rushed at it. i)Ul a roujjie 
of men hurried on to keep them ot'f. The animal wa> fast 

Vol . !I T 







'n a snare laifl in an antelope trark, where also we noticed 
tre^h footi)rints oi' two n^.en. We were evidently not far 
from winter hunters, who perhaps had already cauf^dit si<;ht 
of us. I'erhap.s they had seen me, the only one ridmg 
in Kuropean dress. Perhaps it was too late to disguise 
myself. .Ml m\- jjlans would then be spoiled, and all the 
labours of the winter lost. 

Hut at any rate we had now fresh meat. Let us 
examine the in,c;enious trap in which the game is caught. 
Plates of rib l).)nes (<f antel()j)es are firmlv fixed in a ring 
'•'" hard twisted vegetable fibres, which f(/rm a funnel with 
ihv points in a ditch. The antelope is enticed into the traj) 
by a row of small cairns, and tramps about in the funnel, 
the jdates giving way, ))ut forming immovable impediments 
when he attempts to draw his hooves out. Rut the snare 
must be hi Id secure if it is to have the desired effect. A 
rope as thick^ as a finger is made fast in the bottom of the 
ditch, which is filled with water, and after freezing Ix-comes 
as hard as >lone. The free end of the rope forms a noose 
above the ring of fibres, which tightens when the animal 
first attempts to lift his leg and holds down the funnel of 
ril)s. The more the jioor animal jumps about., the faster 
is the hold of the twisted snare. 

The victim was slain; the dogs ate their fill of the 
entrails, and the meat made ordinary loads for four men. 
Then we went on. At the mouth of a vallev to the 
south were seen a sh.ejjfold and two black specks we 
took for stones. Beyond a grass-grown mound we found 
a j)ool of fresh water, and we pitched the camp near it It 
was not long l)ef()re the Ladakis were sitting round a fire 
and rcKisting pieces of delicate, much-appreciated meat. 

Xow, when we weri' evidently in the neighbourhofxl of 
human beings, it was time for me to give directions to my 
fK'ople. All were r.mimoned to my tent. I told them that 
we should succeed in crossing the forbidden land only by 
crafti,K» and cautiousness, and that I had made the great 
sacrifices which they had witnes.sed only to sec regions 
where no Sahib had ever l)een. If our scheme were to be 

"• ' :'• •■^•-^' fi"!:: •■• = "M i;w iii> !;;ity ani! piav nis pa;t 

well. Whenever Tibetans jnit the usual questions, whence 



wc camo an.l uliitluT \w were j^oini,', they should answer 
that we were all, without exception, Ladakis, in the service 
of a nierchiuit named Gulani Ra/.ul, who had sent us to 
Chang-tanj; to find out how much wool could l)e houfzht 
from the nomads next summer. Aljdul Kerim was our 
lea<Ier and chief, and had to mana<;e our affairs. He 
was therefore f^iven loo rupees for expenses, and every 
evening when no one could spy upon us he was to render 
an account to me. I myself was one of his servants, a 
Mohammedan named — Aljdurrahman, the caravan basl i 
suggested — but no; Hajji liaba sounded better to me. 
Accordingly, when we rame 'I'ibetans, they shcjuld 
never forget and call me Sahib, but only Hajji Baba. All 
understood the matter and promised to do their best. 

A little later, Lobsang came running up and declared 
that the two black, stones were tents. We went out and 
examined them through the field-glass. Quite true; smoke 
rose from one of them, but neither men nor animals were 
visible. I at once ordered Alxlul Kerim, Aljdul Kasak, and 
Kutus to go and ])ay for the antelojje, buy anything they 
could, and obtain information. They soon came back again 
and asked if it would not be wiser to avoid the tents 
and march on eastwards, the more so that the inmates 
might be robbers. Xo; these men had seen us and might 
send a report to Rudok, and then we should be stopped. 
It was Ix'st, then, to enter into friendly relations with the 
men and lull them into security. " i'ismillah," cried the 
three and to<jk themselves off, while th*. others sat by the 
fire in lively conversation about the incidents of the day 
and the [)rospects of the future. It was now sixty-four days 
since we liad left the last village in Ladak. while on the 
former journey we had been in solitude for eighty one days. 

After three hours my men returned. The two tents 
contained nine inmates — two grown uj) men, two women, 
three girls, and two lx)ys. The older man was named 
Purung Kungga, and he owned 150 sheep an<l 4 dogs, 
Imt no other animals. During their journey from Vildan 
their tents and go(xJs were carried by sheep. They had 

month more. The day Kfore they had just Ix-en to lo(jk 










at thfir antelope trap, when they were alarmed at the 
sight i)f the earuvan. Thiy took it for {^ranted that only 
rohhers could be travellin<^ in this district, which lay 
out-ide the haunts of honest and h(jnourable men. The 
antelope had, then, been not more than an hour in the 
trai>. -Alxlul Kerim paid 3 rupees for it, 3 for a sheep, 
and 1 for milk and butter. We could get more milk early 
in till- morning, but we should have to send for it, for the 
nomads dared not come to our tents. We might have 
kept the antelope without compensation, for we were 
wayfarers and had a right to take what we found. In 
answer to their infjuiry who we were, Alxlul Kerim 
repeated the yarn he had just learned. The country about 
camp 324 is called Riochung. In one of the tents lay 
the hides and meat of nine antelopes. The peo])le lived 
almost exclusively on the game they caught in their 

So far wc had been fortunate. With provisions for 
twenty-one days instead of for seveniy-five, we had struggled 
up to the Karakorum instead of finding a passage to the 
east ; we had been persecuted by raging storms, biting 
cold, and deej) snow all the way, and yet wc had lighted 
on the first men. They were like a rock in the ocean, 
and now again we were to venture over the ''aging waves. 
This day found us only a few miles uj) a gently sloping 
valley filled with ice. Little Pu|)py was let loose and 
had to look after himself a l^it. But he was soon tired, 
and lay down till Kunchuk fetched him. 

February 10. The valley Ixjltom is full of ice sheets, 
which we often cross after they have l)een strewn with 
sand. Wc wander through a labyrinth of clay hills. In 
an expansion to the left are seen three stone cabins and 
some maui heaps; here is the gold placer which Rawling 
(alls Rungma-tok, and the hunters we saw yesterday Getsa- 
rung. The gokl-diggers come hither only in summer. 
The camj) to-day, Xo. 326, is in an excellent spot, with a 
.sandy soil, plenty of fuel, and an unfrozen brook. It is 
|)leasant to listen to the ])urling water, a sign of approaching 

>ring. East and suulh-cast rises a wreath of loft^ 

mountains, which we have to surmount. As long as the 




};round is flat and there is grass the animals do very well, 
but they cannot endure a hi.t^h pass. My white Ladaki 
has picked up again, and tlie men are ordered to tend 
him carefully. 

February ii. We ascend the valley, and the snow 
becomes deei)er again. In one j)lace are seen fresh tracks 
of three men. We camp behind a dilT to get shelter from 
the wind, but first wc have to cross the ice belt in the 
valley bottom, where a path has Ix'en recently sanded. It 
is evident that we shall soon fall in with men — perhaps 
on the march between the two camps. Therefore I i)Ut 
on my new Ladaki costume with a girdle round the waist. 
The white turban is kept ready at hand in case we meet 
Tibetans. The chapkan looks suspiciously clean, but 
(iulam undertakes to .soil it with fat and .soot. My soft 
leather is sacrificed and cut up for soles. After this 
camp Lobsang and Kutus were reciuired to give me every 
evening lessons in Tibetan, and I arranged all the new 
words in a vocabulary which afterwards grew to a con- 
siderable size. Thus we spent a couple of hours each 
day when all my literature was at an end. I especially 
practised the answers I was to give in I, Hajji Baba, 
were subjected to cross-^.Kamination. 

On the 1 2th we marched up through the snowdrifts in 
the valley, where small, graceful, elegant Goa antelojjes 
were seen on two occasions. The cam[)ing-ground was so 
wretched that all the animals wandered back in the night 
to the former camp, and therefore the ne.xt day was lost, 
and we waited wearily. In my grey chapkan I am too 
consi)icuous among the other ragamuflms, and whenever 
I have an opi)ortunity I smear soot and butter on it and 
cut holes in it here and there. A continuation of such 
treatment will at length make it as disrejjutable as the 
others. I also try to leav otT washing my face and hands, 
but do not s:icceed in locjKing as dirty as my men. With 
them the dirt seems to l)c engrained and never to be 
removed, and they could grow potatoes under their nails. 
My desire was to become like them as soon as possible, that 
I might e"-c:\!«? th*' rsotici' of the '!"ibet:>.ns. 

February 14. Temperature —22.9°. Again wc are a 






few miles nearer our destination and a day nearer spring. 
Our progress is slow, but we be glad that wc can get 
along at all. Camp 329 is in the valley leading to the 
pass, which we have taken several days to reach. A mule 
is fatigued and is relieved of his load. Some grass is 
again found, and all the animals go out to graze, except 
my small Laflaki, which stands beside my tent with droop- 
ing head and icicles under his eyes. He has Ixrn weep- 
ing, knowing well that he will never Ixi able to cross over 
the pass and that wc shall leave him. I .sit beside him 
for .several hours, i)atting and stroking him, and trying to 
induce him to eat lumps of meal mi.\ed with rice. He 
revives again and goes .slowly after his comrades. 

February 15. Temperature — 22.5°. A hard toilsome 
day. Through ice and snow among sharp detritus we 
march up the valley. My white hor.-^e lea*ls the way of 
his own accord and I ride in the rear. We keep together 
for some time, and ascend .step l)y step towards the 
troublesome Hut first one and then another lags 
behind. Among them is my white horse. I stop and 
whisper in i)ure Swedish into his ear: "Do not 
courage; put out all your strength and climb the pass, and 
then you will go down in a few days to fine rich pasture." 
He raises his head, ])ricks up his ears, and gazes at me as 
I go on up to the with Kutus and Gulam. Only a 
cou]>le of lively mules follow my horse aid halt where he 
halts, at every twentieth step. 

At last we came up to the flat, which attains to the 
considerable height of 18,55.^ feet. Here wc waited a long 
time. The large black mule ])assed first over the snowy 
threshold of the pass and then the others, till nine baggage 
animals had gone by and my grey Tikze horse last. Alxlul 
Kerim reported that four animals were thoroughly tired 
out. I ordered that they .should be led .step by step even 
till night if necessary and he went down to them again. 
A little later appeared Tubges and Alnlullah carrying two 
loads. One of the four animals had already departecl this 

To the west-north -wo^t, the <lirerti-)n from which we 
had come, the view was magnificent — a sea of wild. 





red, gij^jantic undulations, with snow rrowninj:; the summits 
and streaming down their sides. During tlie hist days 
we had noticed schists, porphyry, red and grey granite. 
The country was absolutely barren, and we must try to 
reach the nearest grass in the descending valley, l)ut it 
was full of snow, and the train moved slowly and wearily 
through the drifts. I went on foot like the rest ; every 
man carried a load to help the animals. All were silent, 
and trami)ed and balanced themselves in the track marked 
by the leader. The valley contracted to a ditch, an<l where 
the first yak-moss grew we threw down our burdens. .\ 
sorry camp in the dismal valley. The last animals 
stood tied together, and were fed with pulverized yak-dung 
and moss mixed with meal and rice. 

At dusk the other men came up leading a mule. Three 
animals were gone, end one of them was my small white 
Ladaki horse. He had struggled up to the very top of 
the pas.^. where I had sat watching for him in vain, and 
then had laid him.self down to die. He had served me 
and carried me faithfully and patiently for a year and a 
half, and had never from the first been mi.ssing from the 
camping-ground, and now that the last of the veterans was 
gone I felt very lonely. During the whole journey he had 
never reached a higher spot than that whereon he died ; 
on the very .saddle of the pass his lx)nes would be bleached 
by the winter storms and the summer sun. The caravan 
this evening was empty and forlorn, for I had a trusty 
friend. Xow Brown Puppy was my con.soler, for she had 
been with me from Srinagar, and her little whelp was the 
youngest and an.xious memlxT of our struggling troop. 

Two mules had crossed the but died in the valley. 
If another .such pass lay in our way the caravan would 
perish. The loads were much too heavy for the .surviving 
animals. A thorough weeding-out was necessary. My 
ul>ter and most of my European clothes were burned. 
Eelt mats, tools, kitchen utensils, and spare shoes for the 
horses were thrown away. My small Swedish l)ag was 
burned, and all the medicines except the (juinine jar were 

razors, went the siime way, and only a piece of soap was 












ki'pt. All European articles that were not absolutely 
indispensable were cast into the fire. I tore out of 
Frcxling's poems the leavrs I difl not know by heart, and 
left the rest at the camp. The rcmaininj^ matches were 
distributed amonj,' the men ; I kept myself twenty-four 
lx)xcs, which must .sufTice until the time when we must 
use only flint and .steel to [)reserve our incognito. 

Cold and .s;id the night .spread its wings over the silent 
valley where our lonely camp, a picture of desolation, was 
buried among black cliffs ancl white .snowdrifts, while the 
stars came out above like lights burning round a bier. 

While the lightened loacis were being placed on the 
animals I started on foot followed by two men. One of 
them, Kutus, walked beside me, and I .steadied my.self by 
his shoulder as we floundered through the drifts. The 
wind blew furiously, and the snow danced in .spirals and 
appeared as white clouds on all the crags and ridges. After 
a march of about 3 miles we encamjK'd when we came to Snow had to be melted in pots, for the animals had 
Ix-en long without drink. This process did not take so 
long now that only eleven animals were left. 

With totti:ing steps we continued to the cast-south- 
east on the 17th and i8th, sometimes along valleys, some- 
times over open country, and always through deep tiring 
snow. Camp ^^;^ (Illustration 307) was barely made 
roady when a terrible storm burst over us. The sky 
had iK'en clear, and then all of a sudden the pure l^lue 
colour was wiped out by orange clouds of dust which 
swept up from the south-west. I was sitting in the lee 
of my tent when in an instant the contents of the brazier 
were carried away. A heap of wild asses' dung which the 
men had collected also flew away, and we saw the small 
round balls dancing uj) the slopes as though they were 
racing. A henl of anteloj)es cantered past our camj), 
and their smooth coats shimmered like satin and velvet 
according as the hair was exposed to the wind and the 
light. Again our ears are filled with the din of the 
storm. I hurry inside, and hear from time to time a 
shout when some j)art of the men's ttnt threatens to give 
way, or the sound of iron against iron when the tent-pegs 



have to Ix.' (Irivrn in a^'ain. or a sinRing dyinR away souml 
when mv towd is siizcd l)y the blast and lH)rni' away 
towards the foot of the mountains. \Vc mi^ht Ix.- on an 
unsound vessel with the sails nai)i)ing and Ix-ating in 
cracking strii)s, and the mountain spurs, which still peep 
ol)scurc^v from the mist, might Ix' dangerous and threatening 
reefs, against which we are to Ix; dashed in a moment. 
Grand and majestic is such a storm when it sweeps over 
the earth in unbridled fury. 












Ox February 19 \vc had good country for travelling, 
declining gently to tl shore of the Lemchung-tso, which 
appeared in the distaiKC. I travelled mostly on foot, as I 
could easily do, for the storm had aijated, but, as usual, we 
were chilled through by the wind, though the temperature 
rose to 2^° at one oMock. At the foot (jf some hills in 
the south we perceived numbers of black spots, which w 
took for tame yaks. They soon resolved themselves, hcnv- 
ever, into whole troops of antelopes, which sped in light 
s])rings over the plain northwards. Xow were often seen 
signs of the summer visits of the Gertse .•■'i>mads. We 
had left Deasy's and Rawling's routes a couple of days 
behind us, and now found ourselves on the western margin 
of one of the largest blank spaces in the maj) of Tilx-t. 

After a grey horse had pi'rished in the night we had 
only ten animals left, or a fourth of the original caravan. 
'I'hey were fed in the morning with meal and spent tea- 
leaves in water, which they swallowed with avidity. Our 
store of provisions would last out barely a month. 

We were (: or 7 miles from the shore of the lake, and 
on arriving there we encamped close to a cave in which 
a millstone and a couple of yak hides had Ix-en left in the 
summer. .Mong the shore ran a path worn by the feet of 
men. We stayed here a day ancl sorted out the baggage 
again. All spare instruments, such as thermometers, 
measuring tai)e, eye-glasses, etc., as well as some Euro- 
ix-an garments, a couple of caps, bandages, portfolios, were 
Sewed up. together with some stones, in a sack, and sunk 


Cll\l'. LXl 



in a hole in the ici", which covered the lake to a depth of 
nearly 3 feet. Xtnv I had only three changes of under- 
clothing left, one of >vhich might Ik- sacriticed at the next 
>orting out - \ve were like a Ijalloon from which ballast is 
thrown out to keep it in the air till it has crossed a sea and 
has tirm ground Ix'low it. 

In the evening we hear a whole orchestra of roaring 
winds. The air hurls it>elf down like cascades from the 
mountains on to the camj), and cannot rush fast enough 
over the clear ice of the lake, where the moon pHnluces 
bright silvery streaks on the surface, while the mountains 
show a dark outline to the north. Grazing and fuel are 
l)lentiful to-day, and therefore we are in high spirits. 
The men sing, sometimes softly like a swinging lullai)y or 
rounded billows in a bay, sometimes in the wild and pas- 
sionate style of Asiatics, and dance arouncl the fire. Hut 
when the most violent gusts rush down, they pause, pre- 
pared to prevent the tent from falling over the fire. They 
seem to sing resjjonses to the storm, and I am pleased 
with the i)erformance, for it chases away thoughts of the 
long hours of solitude, and calls forth pleasant dreams anrl 
hopes (jf spring, warm winds, discoveries and adventures 
in Tilxt. I wonder daily how this journey will end, but 
every (Jay I am a step nearer to the answer. 

On February 22 we left the little freshwater lake on 
our left hand, while the Lemchung-tso proper extended 
its partly frozen surface to the right. In the middle the 
water was quite open and of a dark-green colour, and was 
lashed into vapour by the storm. To the east-south-east 
the country seemed favourable — an open plain, where 
no obstacle came in our way. In front of us were two 
grazing animals — perhaps yaks or wild asses. Gulam, 
who went in front, held up a field -glass and reported that 
they were horses. So we were near nomads again. We 
searched about in every direction, but could j)erceive no 
tent. Had. perchance, the horses strayed away? How- 
ever, thty were not shy, but Ix^camc very sprightly when 
thiv r.Muirht siL'ht of us. iralloned straight to the caravan, 
and greeted every horse and mule individually. After this 
civility they followed us all the way, prancing and neighing. 








They wtTc thrt'cycar-old colts which had never carried a 
sad<lle or a load fat, fresh, and nimble-footed, very dilTerent 
from (jur last three horses. When we encamped they went 
of! to the south and were lost to sijjht. The storm increasnl 
in violence, and our last iron spade and a kettle were carried 
away by the wind, but were afterwards recovered. 

February 23. The thermometer sank to — ig.8°. Our 
last ten animals matle a short day's march alon^ the same 
easy valley. I could perceive no trace of the "Snowy 
Range" of Knglish maps in the prolongation of this valley. 
We observed a couple of tents in the mouth of a valley to 
the north, but we were now in no distress. I lived exclu- 
sively on tea, bread, and jam, of which there were still two 
pots left. 

The storm continued ; xt day also. Wc seldom 
covered more than 6 or 7 miles. In the i)ast month we 
had travelled 220 miles, 30 more than in the previous 
month. During the evening and night the snow pelted 
on to our tents. I still had my warm comfortable lx?d, but 
at a pinch it would also go jnecemeal into the fire. Every- 
thing that was discarded was burned or buried, lest, if it 
were left, it might arouse suspicions. 

For another day's march we had the advantage of this 
fine longitudinal valley, which imperceptibly rises to a flat 
threshoKl, Ix'yond which we passed a gold placer. The 
holes from which the auriferous sand is extracted are 3 to 
16 feet in diameter, and little more than 3 feet deep. It is 
evident that some of them have been digged out last 
summer. A little farther down gold had Ix-en searched for 
sometime ago. Folds, stone shelters for marksmen, and 
stone cairns were to be seen in several i)laces. 

Still lower down wc came, on the fc)llowing day, to a 
third placer, situated where the valley contracts to a trough. 
Here large sheepf(ilds and abundant tracks of men were 
found. The golcl is washed out on flat stones in a flume 100 
yards long. The valley aftcrwarrls contracts to a breadth of 
5 yards, and the bottom is mostly filled with ice, here and 
there forming ledges. Thi e had to be levelled with axes 
and strewn with sand, and each animal was led and held 
up by men. We could not afford to let any one of them 


•• ** 


"WiAi-- ^JS2,5ai 

^i;, ,Tj, ;i;. ;!'■. ;i7 Twukwix^ h<om ihi I'wii'^ ;i^, 

IN IHI I \^l lU'i. ^||\ K\\',~ll\\t 

Allir W.ittT-l' .l.iur ^kil hv~ l.\ ilu- Auili ,r 

.'). ^(>. 








briak his U<^ and \k- lost to us. Thin the in- ranu- to 
an ind, the valK v oixnid out, and wc pitihol our ttnt-> 
in an rxtmsivc tlat. Towards the cast thr land was all 
favoural.lf, and no "Snowy Ranni-" sI(mk1 in our way. 
\\\ lould sec 25 miles ahead. Tubgis shot five hans 
and we had a fea^t that evening'. A pack of wolves 
howled round the camj) at nif^ht. 

Fchruary 27. A thousand wil<l asses were seen on 
the j)lain which sloped down gently to the east-south- 
east. They formed dark lines, sometimes large, some- 
times small, sometimes spots like a rosary. S(jme herds 
gallojK'd otT to a j)<;int ai)out two hundred yards in front 
of the caravan, where they stcxxl and gazed and then 
di>persed, springing away in graceful movements. Perhaps 
they were here for a great spring congress, to decide 
questions relating to their territory and pastures. It is 
certain that, like the nomads, they migrate at fixed 
seasons, for they alst) are dependent on the occurrence of 
grass and its varying abundance at different heights and 
different times of the year. 

Farther down the plain, l)eyond a small cliff, were five 
herds of kiangs, the nearest of which numlKTed 133 heail. 
They came gallo|)ing almost up to us. Lobsang ran 
towards them. Then they set off in wild flight one after 
another, their hooves thundering over the grounil, made a 
wide curve Khind us, and vanished in a dense cloud of 
dust, the hard U-at of their hooves Ixing still audible. A 
strong puff of wind dispersed the cloud, and they came 
into sight again; they stood quaking with fear, and looked 
at us. pricked up their cars, dilated their nostrils, and 
sniffed the wind. 

To the south of our route we perceived two tents 
among small scattered heights Alxlul Kerim and two 
men went off to them while we pitched camp 341. On 
their return they reported that the tents were the property 
of a certain Tsering Ngorpel from Gertse, who had come 
hither with his family for two months and was going Ixick 
in a month. They were p<x)r people, and owned only 70 

_U, .- -t- I T- t f ,--1-- I - ,1 TV.,. «,.;.. V>l.^Mii-Virvv>fl 

^n^.•ei; iirul guatb, )UKi>, uiis; i -i'^o- •*■'"- "t-'o"'-"-"-" "-"--■ 

of camp 341 the man called Senes-yung-ringmo, and he 





said that if \vc marched south-eastwards we should almost 
daily meet with nomads from Gertse and Senkor, districts 
in the M)uth which I had passed through in 1901. They 
were afraid of uur men and would not let them enter the 
tents. Two fine ^herp and a lump of butter were bought, 
and rescued us from starvation for a time. The hare meat 
was discarded and given to the dogs. 

We made the two sheep carry themselves our newly- 
acquired store of meat to camp 342 ; we had no room for 
extra loads. We mounted slowly to a flat pass. Three 
tents stood in a side valley and some men came out to 
l(jok. at us, but we j)assed on without exchanging questions 
and answers. On February 29 the wintl raged furiously 
all day long. Clouds swe])t ceaselessly over the country, 
and at one o'clock the temperature was 22.1°, quite low 
enough to chill a rider down to the bones and marrow. 

In front of us lay a large flat hollow, in the midst of 
which two small lakis shone white with ice. We slowly 
ap])roached tlie istlimus Ix'twcen them. A herd of antelopes 
took to flight and nearly fell over a lonely wild ass, which 
looked at them uneasilv, !)Ut at the last moment thev 
turned oiT in another direction as though they were afraid 
of him. On the kft, in a deep trough running towards 
the lake, a flock oi sheep was driven along by two 
shepherds. Wait one moment. Hand me the turban, 
(lulam wound it round my head, and then I went on foot 
like the rest. Along the shore a young man was driving 
six yaks. .Mxlul Kerim and Gulam went up to him while 
we set uj) the tents on the shore (15,200 feet). 

After a while thev returned with the vak-drivcr, a bov of 
fourteen in a large white skin h()<xl. He was terribly 
frightened, and could with difficulty be persuaded to come 
to our tents; our intention was that he should guide two 
of our men to his dwelling. He called the lake Lumbur- 
ringmo. As my disguise was now complete, I went to 
look at the Ijoy, who did not seem at all suspicious. 

Lobsang and Tubges followed the Ixiy to his tent, and 
after a long time returned with unwelcome news. Two 
Tiktans had rushai out of th tent, stopped them, and 
asked ri)Ughly what they wanted. They replied very 

i^i -ficgu iS^Jl—lui 




quietly that they wished to buy food ; but there was nothing 
of the kind for sale. 

"But who are you?" an elderly man asked. 

"We are Ladakis in the service of a merchant, and we 
are on the way to Saka-dzong," they answered. 

"Xo," the Tilx.'tan exclaimed; "you lie. No merchant 
travels this way, least of all in winter; there is no trade in 

"We are not trading," Lobsang replied; "we are 
commissioned to inquire how much sheep's wool can be 
bought up next summer." 

"Sheep's wool — in uninhabited districts! Xo; you 
are servants of a European, who keeps himself out of sight 
in one of your tents. Out with the truth, or it will be bad 
for you." 

"Ask the boy here," returned Lobsang in his most 
innocent tone, "if he saw any European in our tent. We 
abhor Europeans as heartily as you. If you doubt us, 
you can come to our tents and see for yourself." 

"Xo, thank you; we will not come to your tent," the 
old man answered, ai disappeared with his people behind 
the black hangings. 

Lobsang was very serious \ en he CdTic back, and 
proposed that, if we had not already come to 1 standstill, 
we should in future set up our camp as far as possible 
from the nomads. I was alarmed, and I had a feeling that 
we should not advance much farther into the forbidden 
land. It was also disappointing to be so openly suspected 
to be a European. 

Xow good advice was precious, for evidently the 
nomads would betray us to the nearest authorities. At 
the evening's lesson in Tilx'tan, which occupied some 
hours, I discussed the situation with L(jbsang and Kutus. 
It was resolved that Abdul Kerim should go early in the 
morning to the tent, and if the nomads were still hostil- 
we would try to lengthen our day's march so as to g 
out of the way of a probable summons to stop. 

This time Lobsang met with a better reception, as he 
could {)resent our chief and leader, whom the nomads 
correctly addressed as bombo. The old man introduced 

f ' 




2 88 



■ % 


himself under the name of Sof^barong Tsering Tundup — 
So.L^lwronK is his home in the west, and this name is 
pliued before his own much as Anders I'ersson i Stor- 
f^arden. The old man invited his j^uests into his tent, 
took a coui)le of sheejj's trotters, cut them in jMeccs with 
an axe. threw them into the caldron, and (jlTered some broth 
to Abdul Kerim. saying it was the only tea he had. 
In the tent were five antelopes cut up. a ^un- a knife, and 
other articles. The okl man did not this time express any 
susj)icions of us, but related that a European with a large 
caravan had crossed the country to the east more than a 
year ago. He did not suspect, of course, that that same 
EurojK'an was hiding in one of our tents. When the 
messengers came back they had a fine fat sheep and a can 
of milk with them. 

This day, March i, the wind was so strong that it was 
impossible "to travel. My tent fell over and was held fast 
by the load of sand and stones on its folds. Not a trace 
of the surroundings was visible, and I should have obtained 
no notion of country on the route. At two o'clock Tsering 
Tundu]) and another Tilx'tan came to return the visit. They 
emerged from the mist only when they were close at hand, 
and a couple of men hastened to jjrotect them from the dogs. 
The visit was a c<jniplete surprise, but there was nothing 
which could excite the least suspicion. My things were 
crammeil into a sack and I was disguised as usual; indeed, 
I had now no other clothing to put on. Even if they 
had come and lookeel into my tent there would have been 
no danger. 

Our guests had capacicius sheepskin coats drawn up 
alx)ve the belt so as to form the usual protruding bag 
where a large part of their p'-operty is stored. They wore 
hoods of sheepskin and looked like Samoyeds or Chukchis. 
They stoixl awhile and chatted with our men in the wind, 
but I did not hear a word, though they were standing only 
3 vards from the loop-hole in my tent through which 
I was watching them. After some hesitation, they w'cnt 
into Alidul Kerim's tent, and thi-n the vak ciuestion was 
discu>sed. They had only si.x yaks which they required for 
their own journeys, but if we would buy sheep, they would 



let us have as many as tux-lvc, and each sheep could easily 
carry a fifth part of a mule's loacl. The offer was accepted 
with pleasure, and the price was fixed at 38 rupees. Then 
they went off through the storm and I felt safe again. 

The purchase was concluded on March 2. and the 
twelve sheep stood with their heads together in the 
shelter of the men's tent. To start on our travels was 
impossible, for we could not have kept our legs in such a 
storm. We therefore remained here another day, and the 
men had full occupation in sewing sacks for the sheep, 
arranging and weighing the loads. I was worse off, for 
I had nothing to do and nothing to read, but I sat and 
wrote Tilxtan notes and entered new words in my 
lexicon. Then I heard a hasty step coming towards my 
tent; it was Kunchuk bringing fire. .\ rustle, an oath, 
all the contents are swept c^ut of the shovel, and the man 
has to crawl back to the camp-fire for more embers. So 
the day passes and the storm roars, and every one is 
weary and listless. 

During these stormy days our animals lay for the most 
part (quietly in a hollow where they were sheltered from 
the wind. The storm kept them from grazing, and they 
were much enfeebled by fasting. A white mule, therefore, 
remained Ix'hind at Lumbur-ringmo-tso when we moved 
off south-ea-lwards on March 3 with 3 horses, 6 mules, 
and 12 sneej), delighted that we had passed this critical 
point with a whole skin. Freshwater springs formed 
a number (jf picturesque ice volcanoes on the shore 
of the small lake. Ik-fore we encami)ed Ix-hind a pro- 
jecting clifT, we met three large flocks of sheep with their 
shepherds. On such occasions I always went on foot. 
The new sheep all carried burdens, and gave invaluable 
help to our tired animals. They were tied up every night 
between the tents that they might Ix; safe from wolves, 
and the yellow dog from Gartok proved an excellent guard. 
They bleated piteously the first evening, probably dis- 
tressed at leaving their native country. I was sorry for 
them, for they had Ixen treated as cruelly as Uncle Tom, 
but in time they bcf ume ijuile uceUslumed lu their new 
way of life. 

VOL. 11 V 

!' I 

■ i 




Violent storms prevailed all day and all the following 
day, on which \vc passed two black tents. At every camp 
we had to take the greatest care that no pieces of pa|x;r, 
match-lxxxes, candle ends, or cigarette stumps were left 
lying about, for we might Ik- sure that the Tibetans dwell- 
ing near woukl come and search alxjut after we had left 
the spot. Our route took us over a low pass (16,030 feet). 
The rocks comprised weathered schists, quartzite, and 
granite - the last only in detached blocks. On the other 
side we followed a deeply excavated valley opening out 
on to a |)lain, and we were just setting up our tent by a 
{)rojecting rock when two large black dogs came running 
towards us barking. Nomads, therefore, were encamping 
in the neighlx)urho(>l, and we must Ix' on our guard. 
Alxlul Kerim, who always showed himself prudent and 
tactful in delicate negotiations, went off to a tent which 
stood on the other side of the rock and was inhabited 
by four Senkor nomads who owned 4CX3 sheep. The 
chief of them was named Shgoge, and sold us three sheep 
at 3 rupees a head, some butter and milk. He said that 
the country here, around cor^i) 345, was called Pankur, and 
that we were three days' journey from the encampment of 
the Gertsc Pun, or the chief of (krtse. With him, however, 
we had nothing to ilo. It was to our interest to avoid as 
much as possible officials of all kinds, not to approach 
Gertsc or Senkor in the west too closely, and not too near 
my route of 1906 to the east. We must steer our way 
through many |)itfalls. Just in this district we crossed the 
meridian of 84° E., and my plan was to travel due south 
from the Tong-tso right across the large blank space. 
The continual storms which had done us so much harm, 
were so far advantageous to us that they enabled us to 
cross the great wastes without being much noticed. This 
day all was hazy from the dust, and our neighlK)ur's sheep, 
which passed my tent in long columns with shepherds and 
dogs, made a very curious spectacle in the dense mist. 

March 5. Abdul Kerim obtained two more sheep, and 
now we had seventeen to help the mules and horses. Our 
iiileiiliuii was to increase our sheep caravan by degrees, 
and make ourselves independent of the other animals. 



VVc must pIso have a spare horse for Alxlu! Kerim, for 
he was our master, and it was inconf,'ruous that he shoukl 
go on foot while I, a simple caravan man, rode. This day 
we had the storm at our back, and we travelled 8j miles 
over the same even, excellent ground which had made 
progress easier since we left Lemchung-tso. We encamped 
at a sheepfold and enjoyed the feeling that there were no 
neighlx)urs to spy on us. A sheep was slaughtered ; only 
the worst were sacrificed for f(xxl, and were to be replaced 
by new ones when an opportunity presented itself. 


■ 1 




On Manh 6 \vc made another lio]) towards our destination. 
It is dillkult to trawl over tlu' hi<^h plateaus of TiU't in 
winter, and we could not march more than four hours a 
clay. The morning was clear, lait we had not gone far 
bevond a small lake, with its mantle of ice covered with 
driftsand and dust, before the storm increased in violence 
and made me reel in the sadille. The clouds of dust 
became thicker, the sandsjxjuts were dark reddish brown 
at the base, and the gusts tore up furrows in the ground 
like plough-hares, while frequently spiral forms were seen 
which could only Ik.- prcHluced by cyclonic whirlwinds. On 
the left hand shimmered a lake, its surface partly white 
with gypsum and salt, partly streaked brown with drift- 
sand, and with open water only in two places; it was the 
ghost of a lake which was doomed to disapjK'ar. 

Two built-up fireplaces served us ca])itally for a camp- 
ing-ground on the shore where the grazing was good. 
On the eastern side of the lake was a brick-red ridge of 
medium height, which I wished to ]xunt in order to record 
the elTertive tones in the dust mi>t. I waited for the 
others with Kutus and Gulam, and we had scarcely induced 
a fire to burn Ixfore the storm rose at noon to a hurricane. 
?\'ow everything vani^hed lake, ridge, all except the 
neanst tufts of grass. The fire was fenced in with stones 
and clods lest it should 1k' blown away, sand and minute 
]>eb')ks lH.'at ag;'iin-t mv d.rv skin, ;'.nd, T had to rover 
all my face, for the skin smarted as though lashed by whip- 
cord, if it were exposed f(jr a second to the wind. Fortu- 





natcly the othirs madt- their way to us. rCvery man had 
to lend a hand to raise my tent. At lenj^th (Julam came 
crawling backwards and yelled into my ear that the tent 
was ready. With straddling' le^s and all my muscles on 
the stretch I fought my way to it, and was glad to catch 
hold of a tent roj)e iK'fore I was blown down. At last I 
was under cover and could recover my breath. The tent 
cloth was jnilTed out like a balloon, and threatened evei> 
moment to burst with a rejxirt. The sand and rubbish 
Ix-at upon it, pnxlucing a deafening noise. It was as dark 
as at twilight, and the wind roared and whined through the 
grass. The men tried to set up their own tent, but when 
the wind had overturned it twice they let it lie, weighting 
it with the baggage that it might not fly away. Five 
Ladakis lay in the lee of my tent rolled up like hedgehogs, 
and I let them come in, where they sat silent and motion- 
less for a coU]ile of hours. The others had crept under 
the ruins of their unfortunate tent. Puppy and Little 
Puppy lay in a corner and kept each other warm. How- 
ever, the tem])erature was 35.8°, ami we had not had such 
warmth for three months. A long and dismal evening! 
It was with dilTiculty I got a piece of bread, a cuj) of tea, 
and a piece of dried meat. We were deaf and dizzy when 
at length we sought repose under our rugs, while the storm 
continued to rage outside. 

I awoke to hear the same (jld music, and to go out to 
my horse was like plunging into icy cold water. Neither 
the sky nor the horizon was visible, and the mountains 
were dim shadows. With Kutus and Gulam I led the 
way. following a path tHxlden by men. Dork, chill, and 
doleful was the land of eternal twilight, frost, and the 
wicked demons of the air. After a march of 8 miles 
we halted at the edge of a Ix-lt of ice, a frozen stream in 
several branches, wliich ran to the south-west. The gale 
flew over the clear sheet of ice, and the red dust was swept 
over it like flames. With the a-^sistance of Kutus I slided 
over to the other side, and in the shelter of the opening of 
a small valley we made the usual fire. 

Tile laravan canic to the edge of the ice. It was im- 
possible to sand a path, for the grains would have Ix'en 

^ 'I 


■ "^ i^^fff'fr*^^--'^ ^■^.- 

--^^'ssat -A.^9*4s*='-'^ 




fi H 


swept away. The animals were led across singly, each 
helped over by several men. For all that a mule fell and 
Rave a fearful wrench to one of its hind left's, and with 
great dilTkulty it was heli)ed up to the camp. All of us 
had grey distorted faces, our eyes ran, full of sand and 
dust. My lips bled and my teeth were black. March is 
the worst month, but we had never e.xperienced such bad 
weather Ix'fore. What is the use of looking forward to 
spring when the days are darker as time goes on? 

The injured mule had evidently dislocated its leg. It 
was thrown down and a rope was fastened round its hoof 
and the end was pulled by the men. When it was at full 
stretch Lobsang hit the rope hard with a tent jjole in order 
to set the dislocated joint in place again, but I could not 
perceive that the operation had any elTect. No; the mule 
was lost to us just when wo could ill afford to lose one of 
our l)est animals. 

Antl it was lost indeed, for on the morning of March 8 
it could not take a stej). It was sad to pass the death 
sentence, and a pitiful sight when the fresh warm Hood 
spurted out in powerful jets and moistened the barren soil. 
It lay quiet and patiently, and after a few convulsions 
expireil, and was left in solitude when we moved on over 
the dreary waste. 

But Ix'fore starting I had asccnrlcd a hill and looked 
around. W'hich was more expedient — to travel north-cast 
or south-west? Both directions lay out of our course. I 
decided for the south-west, and hastened down to my tent, 
where Gulam served up breakfast. Brown Puppy and 
Little Puppy gave me their company to get their share. 
Little Puppy had grown so much that he coukl do what he 
liked with his mother. When I gave her a piece of meat 
the young one flew upon her and took it away. I had to 
hold Little Puppy that his mother might cat in peace. 
When we set out, Puppy ond the yellov dog remained 
iK'hind with the slaughtered mule, flnding a convenient 
point of departure in an open wound in the soft muscles of 
the neck. There they stood gorging when we started along 
the ice l)elt of the stream towards the south west. 

With my usual followers I rode in advance. The 



sufTocatinp. blindins:, deafening storm was riRht in our 
fares. CJulam walked in front, stopjK'd. looked throuRh 
the field-glass, and gave me the sign to dismount. The 
stream swept round the foot of a clitT in front of us. 

"What is it?" I asked Gulam when we came up to 


"A large stone hou^e with a wall and a couple of 
smaller huts. Thev are not visible at this moment 
k-cause of the mist', t)Ut they lie close to the foot of the 

"Yes; now they can be seen. It is strange that no 

dogs rush at us." 

"What is to l)c done? Shall wc turn kick? Surely 
a chieftain lives here, and he will come and search us 
down to the skin." 

"No; it is too late, for we must have been seen 


How I regretted that we had not travelled to the 
north-east! But we must put on a good face in our 
unlucky situation. Wc passed the village at a distance of 
loo va'rds, and halted in the shelter of the dark {)orphyry 
crag crowned by two chhortcns and a mani. At least it was 
pleasant to get shelter for a moment. It was like taking 
refuge in a gateway when it [)ours. All around was dead 
and dreary; no one was setn ; only a couple of jackdaws 
croaked, and a hare sped out of its form so near us that 
we could have caught it with the hand if wc had ken 
alert. Kutus and Gulam went out to gather fuel. I 
searched the sus[)icious neighk^urhood with the field -glass, 
where treachery seemtnl to lurk khind every projection. 
It cleared a little towards the south-east, enough for me to 
detect a black tent of unusual size al)<)ut 200 yards ofT. 
Four strings with prayer streamers were stretched out 
from a high pole. I had ken in hopes that we should 
get past the first dwellings, as no dogs had shown them- 
selves, but I had never heard of an uninhabited tent. 
And the outward appearance of this tent indicated the 
presence of an important chief. Thanks to the mist, we 
nitii siumi>icn lignt on 10 ii;;-. (.uii;[/, <•,.,•■■. ■."•. •.•.uui-: ::■■. '-^ 
caught napping by poor strolling Ladakis. 



rn \r. 



(Iiilam hail Ikih to tlu' liirt;c house, the yard door 
of wliii li stoinl u|Hn, and liad found in a >hvA a hirj^'c 
f|uantity of futl of a kind of shrul) the TiUtans lall omho. 
So Wf waited atid uaitnl, txpictinj^ to sec the caravan 
emiTi^'i' from tin- mist, but when nothinj^ was heard of it 
Kutus "nt out to -earth. It had wandered quite out of 
it> course, and had macje a lonj,' (ireuit mund thi' hou>e 
and tent, for tlie leadirs wert- convinced that I wished to 
shp l)y unnoticed. .\ horse luid fallen, and now we had 
only 2 left, and 5 mules out of 40 animals. 

The three tents were si't up in a line close tof,'ether, 
and Aljdul Kerim went with Kunchuk to the lar^'e tent. 
We saw through the mist that a man came out to meet 
them, and that all three went into the tent, and then we 
waited with our hearts in our mouths. . .ie men returned 
at dusk with ,^o(h1 news. The tent was inhabited hv a 
lonely old .\mi hi lania, i.e. a monk-doctor, who at the 
same time looked after the souls of the .\a<^ron<^ nomads, 
determined from astroloj^iud books the lucky and unluckv 
days for baptisms and other affairs, and assisted people 
nith the same remedies when they were sick, died, and 
finally were buried. lie was from Sera in Lhasa, and had 
lived three years in Xat^ronj,'. The tent was a movable 
tem])Ie. furnislied inside with altars, burnin;.; butter lamps, 

and votive l)owIs, where the hermit performed service 

we heard him beatint; a tem])le drum at midnight. It 
Ix'longed, as well as the lar<;e house, to the Gertse Pun 
Bombo. or the chief of the (iertse district, who a few days 
before had <4one off a day's journey to the east, with his 
flocks, children, and all. but was soon expected back in 
consequence of a dispute Ix'tween two of his subjects. 
Perha[)s, after all, it was well we travelled south-west 
instead of north-east, for we might have fallen into the 
jaws of the (lertse Pun himself. This potentate comes to 
Xagrong in late summer and takes up his abcnle in the 
stone house, while a hundred nomad tents are set uj) 
around and a fair is held. 

The- old lama had no servants, but every third dav a 
infill canie to iniiig him wood. He must find it dull in 
the long winter evenings, when he hears the storm roaring 




t!iin ar niil 


(■ ''(mIs who 

wf hi-, drum with ;i ^\\\u 

(»ut>i<U'. anil ^ikTici' rn^N 
answiT h'y-^ prayci-. ami ihr lul 
of rrconcili.itio'n. Hul pmlMliIy he i- a |ihil<.v)i)hi r aii<l 
ha> no frar of ihr (lan^r-, <.t' tiir ni ht. In hi- triit lay 
Mvcr.l suks full of h'linh'i. liailry, rid-, and hutUr, liut lii- 
had no authority to -mII anything' without tin- ]>cTiiiis>ion 
of the (M-rtsv i'un. Instead, In- [.ointi'd out wluTr the 
tint of thi- I'un'> hrothir in i.iw stood, wIkti all kinds of 
prime ^o(xls could he hoULjht. 

W'c therefore di(idcd to remain v hiTe wi- wire over 
March 9, and Alxlul Kerii:: with hree attendants sou^'ht 
out the brother in law, met with a friendly reieptinn, and 
bought five sheep and two f,'oats. bi >ides t"o >heep loads 
of rice and as much barley, and aUo a ba^ of tobacco, 
which the men had Ion,-; 'anted. .All day long I was a 
prisoner in my tent; my oeriod of freedom was over. 
And when the evening came and enveloped the dreary 
Xagrong valley in its shadows. I could think of nothing 
else but my old trusty comrade, the oldest of all that had 
l)een with me in Tili. t. Brown Puppy. In the company 
of the yellow dog she had remained in the morning with 
the mule which had dislocated its leg, and I had seen 
nothing of her since. We had hoi)ed. however, that she 
would find us again, as she had so often done before, but 
now we were convinced that she had lost f)ur trail, and, 
desperate and crazy with ;iii\iety. was seeking for us over 
hill and dale, only to wan.ur farther and farther from the 
right direction. It was u ''less to send men after her. and 
it was not advisable to ilivile our Muall party at such a 
critical time. The dogs had remained a long time tearing 
at the mule's neck, and when at last they were satiated 
thev had started to follow us and had lo>t our track in 
the terrible wind and sand clouds. If they once crossed 
over ice they would never I'md our track . gain. Xow 
thoughts of my old tent comi)anion worried me more_ than 
anything else. Only that very morning she had lain on 
her felt rug in the usual corner, and we had breakfasted 

t .. ,1. _ \\'l-__-, ,, U,. J ,i.K..t Ti .U,. <)..iiiir nf tl -■ 

lo^Liiier. \\ lieiC V.J..T Mlt . •.•.::.ll •-■.- -:;•- -t ,, .. i ,■ ■ 

moment? Day and night she would run barking and 
whining over desolate Chang-tang with her nose to the 








K'roiind, si'ardiinL' for our trirL- till 1, . 

an.l painful \Vl,,i uo. T 11 ■ ' ''■'"' '"''''' '""' 

with t. I . ulful d.rL ." •'" ^''"" "'^''" '^""^- ''"^v" 

11 un.Ki ui (l.irkiu'ss and its nrou rv wolves^ \V..r . 

'''ff'r.;nt paths, having lost .a. h < . u'r ^ S,r\;\ ?' 

night thinking of her misforturK ITV i . " '''''^'' '^^ 
to see if i)rr(lrmr<. K . • '"••'''''' '■'■^■'■y niornin.' 

■I shT /k a /'"'fm-cJ from a .klusion, imaf,nninK that 


. I!iLCi:Auu£^^ 





IS TlIK Al !!{■ 

\> \ SHl-.I'llh KIJ, 








our tirrc 
l)rotl- T 

were not spies; 
guests was the 
his, who, when he 1 
sheep, said he was r 
with him. as well as 

had not yet come. One of thi' 
-law, the other a neighbtjur of 
what a good price we {)aid for 
to .sell us four he had brought 
lively goat. Alxlul Kerim had 
received a general order t ) buy all the .sheej) he could pro- 
cure, so he took them. The goat was, is has been .said, a 
lively beast, and he ran off at once and could not be caught 

The two Tibetans went off to the lama's tent to drink 
tea, but the critical time was not yet over, for probably 
they would return to .see us start. Therefore, while the 
tents were .still standing, I set out with Tubges, Little 
Kunchuk, and "Snoring Kunchuk," as we called Sonam 
Kunchuk on account of his terrible timber-sawing propen- 
.sities, when they drove our thirty-one sheep down the valley. 
As wc went off the Tibetans came out and watched us, 
but did not suspect anything wrong. To escape detection 
I had hurriedly turned to sheep-driving (Illustration 318), 
but I soon found that I had no natural aptitude for this 
occupation, so invigorating, but so trying to the patience. 
I fancied I imitated my Ladakis as closely as pos.sible. 
whistled and shouted in the same way, and threw out my 
arms when a sheep left the crowd, but the animals showed 
me not the least obedience, but went where they liked 
when I was near. After an hour's walk in the teeth of the 
wind 1 had had enough, and while the other .shepherds went 
on with the sheep, Kunchuk and I stayed in a cranny out 
of sight of the lama's tent, while I could look over all the 

At length the other men came with Alxlul Kerim 
riding at their head. Our coats and turbans were of the 
.same colour, so that any Tibetans who happened to be 
watching could not tell if it were Abdul Kerim or I that 
was riding. T now took my horse and went on in front 
with my usual companions. At eleven o'clock the storm 
rose to a furious pitch and dashed in our faces. Driftsand 
swept over the ground in dense masses; we were nearly 
sufTccated, and we .seemed to stand still while the country 
moved past us at a giddy pace. We crossed the valley in 







onlrr to follow its vcstcrn flank. The clouds of dust 
objured tJK' sun; notliinj; could Ik- sirn beyond a distance 
of 20 vard>; chaos surrounded us. We sto{){)ed to get 
our i)reath, and le-t we should miss the others, but ;'S .soon 
as they a|t|)eared like phantoms in th<' mi>t we .set olT aj^ain. 
1 have e.\|)erience(l many .sand.^torms in Takla-makan and 
'he I<ob-nor de.sert, but hardly any .so bad as this was. In 
Turkestan one sim|)ly eniani|)s when a storm comes on, 
but what i^ the use of encamping to await the end of a 
storm which la>ts thirty days? We strayed among small 
dunes, and, though tlie valKy fell in the direction we were 
travelling, we seemed as though we were mounting to a 
lofty ])ass in consetjuencc of the pres.sure of the storm. 
The drift-and rattled against my dry hard coat, which, 
from the constant friction, became heavily charged with 
electricitv. .\boul every other minute there was a dis- 
charge, and I felt uncomfortable and often painful prick- 
ings, especially in the soles of the feet, the hands, and 
knees. .\t every such discharge the horse also pulled uj) 
and became nervous. .\t la>t, when my gri'y Tik/.e horse 
refused to go farther, and we had (juite lost sight of the 
others, and could not .see where v. e were going, we came 
to a halt and huddled together with our backs to the wind. 
The electrical discharges continued even now, but were 
weaker. If I ])laced the tij) of a fmg -r near Gulam's or 
Kutus' hand a small electric spark was felt and .seen, and 
both of us felt the shock. The men were e.xceedingly 
astonishcMl. and hoped it was not witchcraft. 

We sat waiting for three hours, and were prepared for 
an uncomfortal)le night. Hut Kutus came u|)on the other 
men ju>t when they were giving up all attempt to find us 
before night. We encam])ed among the dunes, and before 
long all articles which were set out in my tent vanished 
under a thick layer of sand. 

On the morning of the iith the storm had somewhat 
abated; and, wearied and stiff after our exjieriences of the 
previous night, we continued our journey .southwards and 
encamped at a deserted slucpfold. Hy nine o'clock com- 
jiacl sand>i»outs twisted slowly over the plain like s])ectres, 
N) the storm was again at its u.>ual height. We had tsaniba 




for only one day, but it (li<l not count tor nuu h as long as 
\vc had such a }^o(«l supply of meat. \Vc were f^Iad to f^et 
out of reach of tlie Oertsi' Pun; in this drifting sand it was 
inii)osvil)le to find our ti.iil — yes, even for our own dogs. 
Little Puppy did not miss his UKjllitr, liul felt very im- 
portant at being sole master on the ground, and barked at 
our sober sheep. It was, however, a .serious matter for 
us that we were deprived of our night watch in distri ' ; 
where we had most need of them. We must try t(j prijcurc 
fresh dogs as soon as possible. 

On Marcii the i2lh we marched the usual weary 6i 
miles to the east-.south-east through a tine broad longi- 
tudinal valley, and pitched our camp in a hollow full of 
rubbish. Our three tents were nov.' always placed close 
together, so that, if any stranger came une.\i)ecte(lly to my 
tent, 1 could crawl into Alxlul Kerim's without being seen 
from outside. My Ladak cJuipkan began to assume a more 
satisfactory colour, but we still did all we could to det'ile it 
and make it .sooty and greasy. Little Puppy lent me his 
assistance by biting and tearing the .sleeves so that they 
hung in rags. It would not be long before 1 had the 
appearance of a regular rulTian. 

It .snowed heavily all night, and in the morning the 
snow lay so deep, and the country was so thickly covered, 
that we tiiought it best to remain stationary. We were 
still further removed from Brown Pujipy, and it was vain 
for her to seek our trail. Perhajjs it was providential that 
both she and the white horse were lost before they could 
betray us. Tibetans have wonderfully sharp eyes for 
animals, and recognize them again wlien they have .seen 
them only once. Xow the danger was over, for all the 
veterans had gone. Perhaj>^ Puppy siicritued herself that 
1 might be .successful I All the sami-, T seemed to see her 
wanflering disconsolate and distressed about the desolate 
wastes in the north. 







When I awake to another day of uncertain fortune and 
adventures life seems gloomy and solitary, and the longer 
the time the more I long for an end of my difTiculties. 
When (lulam awoke me on the 14th. he complained that 
Alxiul Kerim did not kiij) the watch I had given him m 
order; either the watch or the caravan leader was at 
fault, !)Ut he believed it was the latter, for the wa'ch could 
not he hlamed if it were wound up only every other day. 
(iulam atVirmed that when Alxlul Kerim was asked what 
o'clock it was, he always answered seven, whatever time 
it might be in the twenty-four hours. 

The thermometer fell to —11° in the night, but the day 
was fine. The wind blew as usual, but the sun came out 
and we thought of spring again. Three shej)herds were 
taking some hundreds of sheep to the west, which had been 
driven otT from their pasturage by the recent snow and 
were looking for uncovered land. We were t)nly a day's 
journey from the Tong-tso (14,800 feet), they said, and the 
'i'ong tso was the j)oint from which we were to .start .south- 
wards to traverse unknown country. If I succeeded in cross- 
ing it only l)y a single route, all the troubles of the past 
winter would not have been in vain. The shepherds' infor- 
mation was correct, for the ne.\t day we bivouacked on the west- 
ern shore of the Tong-tso, which we found exactly at the 
place where the immortal pundit, Xain Sing, inserted it on 
Ills maj). To the towered the huge massive 
.Sha-kangsham, along the northern foot of which I had 
ridden in igoi. 





^ Now \vc had to find a convenient pass over the moun- 
tain which barred our way to the south. A f,'ap was .seen 
to the south-east, and we directed our .steps towards it. 
On our right, two tents sto(xl at the foot of a hill, and 
AI^lul Kerim was .sent to them while we encam[)ed in a 
deep narrow ravine, at the bottom of which we found a 
large (luantity of wind .Iriven kiang dung and drv tufts of On his return, our good leader reported that he 
was rudely reieived h\- two men, named Xakchu Tundup 
and Xakchu Hkinduj), who can- fror the di.strict Xakchu, 
three days' journey distant to the .south, and had a wife in 
common. Tiiey first a.-,ked how many we were and how 
many guns we had. as though they wished to know 
whether they and their neighlxjurs might venture to attack 
us. They then said liiat they had seen a man riding at 
the head of our party, while all the rest, Abdul Kerim 
included, went < n foot, and that it was not hard to guess 
that the mounted man was a Eur<)[)ean. When Abdul 
Kerim replied that no Eurojjeans travel in winter, for they 
are too much afraid of the cold, and that we were only 
wool-buyers from Ladak, the Tibetans shook their heads 
and answered that they had never heard of Ladakis travel- 
ling in this country in winter. Hut, nevertheless, Alxlul 
succeeded in gaining their confidence, an<l when he had 
paid double the market price for two yaks and si.x sheep, 
the Tibetans forgot their su.spici()ns, all for the .siike of 
filthy lucre. The purchase was to be completed the follow- 
mg morning. Then the new animals were fetched, and their 
carrying jwwer was a welcome as.sistance to our animals. 
Fortunately, the nomads had in L,'eneral the greatest respect 
for our tents. It was important for us to make liberal 
bargains with men who at first had been ho.stile to us. On 
the other hand, they often abstained hum betraying us, 
even if they had suspicions, for if it were known that they 
had been well paid, the nearest chief would confiscate their 
receipts and woukl punish the unfortunate men who 
had dared to traffic with suspected individuals. 

During the day's march I rode in front as usual, with 
my two com{)anions on foot. A tent lay concealed behind 
a chil. and we did not notice it until we were some way 






past it. and tlun it was too latf to dismount. Two follows 
wtTc outside and looked after us, and if they compared 
notes with tlieir neiK'hl)nurs tiiey wouM have j^ckmI cause 
for su>i)iiion. M our canij) that day we had a visit from 
an old man and two younj^ people, who had their tent near 
,.11(1 tame to see what kind of men we were. They siiid 
that thev were very i)oor, and l>ej,'^'ed for some coppers. 
We were on the I'^jnier of the district Honj^ba chanf^ma, 
which contains ,^oo tents, and, like the whole province of 
Hon^lw, is subject to the -governor Karma I'untso, whose 
tent stoo<l at a distance of six day.s' journey to the sc^uth. 
He was a man of twenty-five years of a^c, lived in a 
lar^e tent, and had ken in ofi'icc only a year, since his 
father died. It was assuring to know that he could 
have no e.\i)erience of F.uropeans and their crafty ways. 
After the strangers had received a coui)le of lennas 
from Alxlul Kerim, they went home again in the rays 
of the evening sun, delighted to find that ve were not 

Then the temperature fell to -i6°; the winter was 
remarkably trying, but the day, March 18, was still fine, 
and I travelled all the way on foot, driving the sheej) while 
we were i)assing several tents. Among them was that of 
our old man of the day before, and he provetl to be a man 
of property, who sold us various much-needed articles of 
food. On' the way 'lubges shot seven partridges, where- 
upon two Til)etans came forward and protested, s;iying that 
only Europeans shot partridges. Alxlul Kerim assured 
them that he preferretl partridges to mutton. Again there 
was talk of Karma Puntso. Perhajjs it would be l)etter to another way. No; then the governor would be .still 
more suspicious. We encamped on the northern side of a 
small pass, where we had no troublesome neighk)urs. 

March 'q. Breakfast, a delicate partridge and a cup 
of tea, was just over wlun it was announced that three 
Tibetans were coming up to our tents. But they stopped 
at a respectful distance, and .Abdul Kerim went up to 
them. My tent was opened in this direction, but was 
closed again just in time, 'ilie 'f'ii)etans' errand was to if we had any medicine suit;ilile for a man who had a pain 



in the foot. In reality, their object was to spy up(jn us 
when we set out, for they stayed all the time and looked 
alM)Ut. After my hands and face had been coloured Ijlack, 

1 stole by the secret pass;ige into AUlul Kerim's tent, 
while Kutus and Gulam crawled by the same way into 
mine to pack u[). Then I went with Lobsan^ and Kutus, and 
drove the sheep up the track leading to the pass (16,135 fi-'t-'t). 
We had not gone far wlien Ablul Kcrini came riding on 
my hor>e and made frantic gestures to us to stop. A Tibetan 
horseman, followed \)y a big dog, would meet us in a few 
moments on the path. \Ve therefore took a roundabout 
way among hillocks, while the caravan encountered the 
Tibetan. In this way we escaped the danger. Soon came 
Kunchuk and Sedik, leading the dog with a rope on either 
side — a savage brute, which barked till he foamed at the 
mouth, and tried to bite those who were taking him away 
from his ma.ster. He was of the species called takkar, and 
Takkar was liis name. He reminded me of a St. Bernard; 
he was coal black, with a white patch on the chest and neck, 
and was as savage as a wolf. They had bought him for 

2 rujjees. 

Moreover. Alxlul Kerim had also Ijought the rider's 
horse for 86 rui)ees, and he came jogging cheerfully after 
us as we rode down from the summit of the pass to a 
Icjngitudinal valley abounding in tents and herds of .sheep 
and yaks, and at two spots were seen mounted men, who 
looked unc(jmfortably like a levy. The new horse was 
eleven years old, the owner .said, and if he passed well 
over his fifteenth year, he would live to thirty — but we 
did not want him .so long. He was a new member of 
our troop and excited general interest, and Takkar lx>- 
came cjuietcr when he saw an old friend and comrade in 

At the camp we had to be careful, for nomads dwelt 
near and shepherds wandered with their flocks on the 
slo|)es around. To [)revent Takkar from running away he 
was tied l)y the neck to a tent pole, an operation by no 
means ea^y. He was tied fast with ropes, his legs were 
fettered, and a felt mat was thrown over him, on which 
four men sat while the others made him fast U) the ixjle. 

vuL. 11 X 

, (i 

♦ "■( 







Immediately he was let loose he rushed at those nearest 
him. hut \va> helil i)a( k by the |)ole. It was a sin to ilraK 
him from home a^ain^t his will; he was another Uncle 
Tom who sulTiTi'd f(»r our sake, l)Ut I hopi-d that we should 
soon understand each other. To console him in his 
captivity he was j,'iven the hloocl and entrails of the 
slauf^htered sheep. 

We crossed another small pass (rg. 5,^7 feet) on the 20th, 
and the insi<^nific ant lake .Shar tso, where a tine sj)rin<^ hubbies 
up out of the ground by the shore. From a couple of tents 
to the west we bou;;ht tea, butter, and tsamba sulTicient 
for several days, and heanl a,ti;ain about Karma Puntso. 
This time it was said that he lived three days to the west, 
and we hoped to sli|) i)ast without any disturbance. The 
country about camj) ^51) is called Luma-shar, and we 
stayed on the northern bank of tiie lar^e river Kangsham- 
tsanf^po, which comes from the northern llank of Sha-kang- 
sham, the inline massive wliic h I left to the south of my 
route in 1901, and which showed us a magnificent view of 
its western side. The mountain lay about a couple of day.s' 
journey to the south-east. 

The next day we were to cross the river, an exceedingly 
unjjleasant business; for though there had been 32 degrees 
of frost in the night the ice. except close to the bank, 
would not bear. Alidul made an attempt witli his horse, 
but the animal came down on his nose in the middle of 
the river. Then Lobsang took olT his Ixxjts and went 
across the river barefooted, and came back again to help 
in conducting our pack animals gently and firmly across. 
To get the sheep over was the worst ditTiculty; they 
hacl to be pushed and pulled by the horns, one at a time. 
.Mmost all the men of the caravan got a refreshing bath 
in the .stream (Illustration 36,^). 

On the other side we ascended h, a .small pass where 
there was a splendid view over the ridge, which seemed to 
run west-south-west from Sha-kangsham and which barred 
our wav to the south. AIkIuI Kerim, Kunchuk. and Sedik 
went with an exhausted mule to a few tents standing to 
the right of our route, with the object of l)artering the 
Worn-out beast for a couple of sheej), but the nomads said 

LI » 




they would not take it as a '^'ift. Instead, our min l)<)U^Iit 
rice, sour milk, Ijutter, salt, and a slieej), so that wt' wire 
provided for some days. From tlie (amp also AUlul 
Kerim took a lonj,' walk to some tetit^ in the neij.,'lil«)ur- 
liood. Xow poor AlxUil Kerim had to do peiianie for his 
sins, and if he had erred in takini,' too little harley from 
l^adak, he made up for it Ijy his conduct on this adventurous 

From camp jto the hij^'hest peak of Sha-kan^'sham 
lay south, 7,^° K. (Illustrations 516, ^517). 

'I'akkar is still irreconcilable, and iieartilv detests Kun- 
chuk, who lxjuj.;ht him. Hut he also harks at us as soon as 
we show ourselves outside the tents. On the march he is 
resif^ned as long as he is near our new horse, but at other 
times he is savage. The only (jne that dares go near him 
i>< Little Pujjpy, who teases and sports with him and bites 
his ears. Takkar treats Little Puppy with supreme con- 
tempt, and only when the young one presumes to snatch his 
new uncle's food he growls angrily, but then Little Puppy 
pricks up his ears, puts his head on one side, and looks 
at him. He little thought that the new dog could have 
bitten otT his head like a chicken's if he had wished. In 
reality, Takkar was glad to have a playfellow in his cap- 
tivity, though at first he held himself aloof to maintain his 

The ne.xt morning Lob.sang and Tubges went back to 
the nomads' tent and relumed with three more sheep, a 
lump of butter, and a bag of tobacco. Their appetites 
were wonderful to behold. The others had left for them 
half a pot of tea mi.xed with butter, tliick and red. One 
cuj) disappeared after another, and they cinptied the pot to 
the last drop. Then they took .some meat out. which they 
ate up like wild beasts. What was left they stuffed into 
tluir waistbelts, to have it handy in case they were hungry 
before we reached the next camp. 

We continued on our way to the south, passing on our 
left hand an open plain which extended up t(} the foot of 
the skirts of Sha-kangsham. We i)as.sed tents and tlocks 
at one or two places, and encamj)ed on a hill of loost- 
material beside a spring. The nomads around had nothing 




' ; i 






to sell. l)Ut K^ivc Alxlul Kcrim miuh viilii.iMc inform.ition. 
On >ii( h ()((,ixi()ns Kunrluik UM'd to >it and ■<■( rrllv note 
down :dl the ^coL^niihu al iiamts. Ainon^ otluT details uc 
now licard that if we luld on our journry to tlir south fur 
si'Vfn days we should fall in with a rii h nicnhant from 
Lhasa, nanicil Tson^pun Tasl-.i, who was wont to taki' u|i 
his (juartcrs in wintir in the heart of the Hon>,'l)a provitui- 
to si'll tea to the riuniads. We nii^ht lie certain that if we 
came into the nei}^hljourh(Mxl of his camp we should aj^ain 
be in a eritical situation. 

N'ow Lohsmg and two weather beaten Ladakis com- 
plained that they sle|)t l)a(lly, iKcause it was too warm in 
the tent. The former worc' a .set of underclothes, and 
al)ove only a parment of thin W(K)llen material. In this 
costume he nad travelled all the way from Dru.i,'utj, and 
slept in 72 decrees of frost with only a couple of s;icks 
over him, for he had sold his skin coat to one of hi.s 
comrades ai the commencement of the journev. Only a 
Tibetan car survive such an experience. 

On Ma ch 2t, we .struggled up to tlie Chaklam la, which 
we heard called Amchen la. The path u|) to it is 
steep, and we moved exceedingly .slowly up the ascent. 
The sheep and the two yaks beat us hollow. From the tent the i)ath was visible all the way up to the ])ass, so 
I was obliged to travel on foot, and I might have collap.sed 
from palpitation of the heart and loss of breath if I^)bsang 
had not gone Inhinrl and pushed me. The lives of two 
mules had been eblnng away during tlie previous days, so 
the animals were left where nomacls -ould take po.sses.sion 
of them. A black horse was .dso gi'ing in, and the newly 
Ijcnight one I id to take over his load. My grey horse was 
no longer worth much. Chaklam la, with its 17,3,^9 feet, 
was a heavy trial to us, and I was not delighted with the 
view which unrolled itself to the south — a labyrinth of 
mountains, where it was plain to see that the ranges all 
stretched from to west. From the pass there is a 
steep descent to the river Sangchen-chu, which (lows west- 
wards. We encamped on it- bank. \ow Takkar was 
becoming resigned to his fate. He was certainly annoyed 
at being tied to the pole, but he found that he got good 





and plentiful focKi anfl that \vp wen* kind to him. 
harknl only at Kunc huk. whom he could never for^'ivo 

When wc broke up our ramp on March 24. we hesitated 
whether we should make for the south-west or south-east, 
for hi^^h mountains ro^e to the south. If we went south- 
westwards wc should come too near to Karma I'untso, anri 
so we those the southeasterly route. We had lirst to 
cross the i(e of the river, 1^0 yards broad, where a path 
was sanded. The sheep had to U- dra^K*"*! over one by 
one by the horns, and the yaks would not venture on the 
iie till they siiw that it bore the horses and mules, (iulam 
went first on foot, and had the usual order to ^ive a sij,'n 
if he .siiw a tent or shepherds. We had not «one far when 
he stretched out his left hand, which meant that I must 
dismount and ^'o on foot while Alniiil Kerim nnle my 
horse. It was only a shepherd with his tlcKk. As soon as 
the (laii},'er was past I e.xchanRed places with the caravan 

.\ little farther on I found that I had lost my ciRarettc 
casi'. which also contained some unmounted family portraits 
and one or two pieces of .sticking plaster. It "would be 
terrible if a Tibetan found it. Only a Kuropean could 
own such a thin.t,'. Lobsant,' and Kutus went back and 
searched alonj.' the track while I lay and waited on a bank. 
They found the case, and each received a ci^^arette as a 
reward, and we sat and smoked while Alxlul Kerim with 
Kunchuk and Tub^^es went down to a tent, where there 
were only women, and b)ut,'ht some i)rovisions. At the 
camp in the evenin-,' snow fell, and at nij,dit the thermometer 
sank to zero. Xow we had only 21 sheep left, and we must 
try to our flock, or. .still better, buy a dozen 
horses. In this resion. and in Bonj^'ba j,'cnerallv, it was 
dillicult to buy shee[). Everywhere the noma'ds com- 
|)lained that their flocks had been decimated by the cold, 
wind, and snow, and the [jastura^e was unusually pf)ori 
because (he rains had failed at the end of the prcctfling 
summer. .Sheep breed in, «,' is their means of subsistence, 
and if they lose their flocks they are imixjverishcd and 
can (]o nothing but wander al^out begging from more fortu- 
nate pcoi)le. They h.ivc therefore a decided objection to 











l|||[ 2.5 
IPI| 2.2 
I 2.0 





<f*- ;r-^ 





diminish thtir flocks by artificial means, as we may say; 
the Hocks must fluctuate, increasing in good times and 
fliminishing in had, hut they must not Ix; reduced l;y sale. 
Therefore they often refuse to sell even at douhle the 
proper price. Still harder was it to buy horses in Bongba. 
In the ni;,'ht our animals wandered back to the former 
camp. While Lobsang and Kutus went after them most 
of the clay slipped by, and therefore we remained at 
camp 363. Kunchuk and Tubges s[)ie(l a tent in a valley 
to the south, where they Ijought rice, barley, tsaniba, milk, 
and churn, a kind of cheese, so that we had food for 
several days. Thus we got our livelihood in small 
portions, bit by bit anfl from tent to tent. Our own flock 
had now shrunk to 21 head, all carrying burdens. 

A solitary wild-goose flew screaming over our camp. 
Had he got Itjst, or he was a scout sent out to see if the 
ice were broken up on the lakes to the north? Doubtless 
he would soon return to his trilx' and make his report. It 
seemed to me that he had Ix-cn despatched too soon. 

From February 24 to March 24 we had traversed only 
TQO miles, owing to the cutting storm, loss of animals, and 
now at length the diflkult country. We now seldom made 
a day's march of as much as 7 miles. 

It is most irritating that a tent, Ukc a sentinel-box or 
a spj-ing eye, always stands at the northern foot of a 
pass, so that I have to walk all the way. This day also, 
when we crept up to the -Sanchen-la, a small shelter stood 
on the saddle, 17,572 feet high. Southwards there were still 
more mountains. At a distance of 20 to 25 miles north, 
60° E., rose the highest peak of Sha-kangsham, a fine 
sight in the iK-autiful weather, when not a cloud obstructed 
the view. Five Ovis .Xmmons careered in nimble and 
elastic springs over the heights, and small agile Goa 
antelopes leaped along the southern slope, where we 
scrambled down among detritus. The Pantholops antelope 
is not seen in this region. 

Close to where we encamped at Xema-tok was a tent, 
and the inmates sold us a sheep's load of rice. An old 
man, whom my fellows called familiarly nva or father, came 
to look at our black horse, which we wished to sell, as it 




could ev-idcntly not travel much farther. But the old man 
said he would lot give a raj) for the horse. He informed 
us that in ni days nomads from all (juarters would repair 
to the place where Karma Puntso dwelt, to buy tea and 
pay their taxes to the Government. Tson^pun Tashi was 
a powerful and inlluential man, he said. We drew near 
to this potentate with a feeling of uneasiness and growin;: 
respect. He enjoys peculiar privileges from the Deva 
shung. He sells 'tea to the nomads on credit. When 
they sell their sheep's wool in summer at the tasam they 
pay their debts to him in Iciii^as or in goods. Tsongpun 
Tashi makes a good profit on these transactions, and 
therefore it is to his interest to stand well with the 
Devashung. If he, who must have the reputation of Ix.-- 
ing more intelligent and sensible than the simple nomads, 
were to let us pass by with impunity, he would have to 
answer for it to the Devashung and would lose his privi- 
leges. We were therefore evidently coming to a most 
critical moment. 

Nothing venture, nothing have! If I would explore 
the blank space in the heart of which I now found myself, 
I must expose myself to various annoyances and run great 
risks. For a moderately intelligent man it could be no 
particular pleasure to go on foot through desolate wastes 
like a vagak:)nd, and drive a tlock of refractory sheep. I 
was already thoroughly weary of this work, for I had no 
talent or training to perform it properly. I had to paint 
myself black every morning like a negro, and I sat with a 
brush before the looking-glass, smearing my face three 
times over to produce an evenly dark complexion. My 
eyes were concealed with a pair of large round Tik'tan 
spectacles with my own ywlished glasses fixed inside. 
This time I was much more carefully disguised than in 
1901, when I tried U) get through to Lhasa as a Mongol, 
but was held fast in the strong claws of Kamba Bomlx^. 
My tuiban was too white, so it was dipi)ed in a dye of 
boUed butter and ashes, and kcame at once quite shabby. 
Mv soft leather toots were in holes, so that the toes came 
out. It was well that I ran no risk of meeting acquaint- 
ances from Stockholm or Luriilwn. 





» r T* r - • ' 


u r 

1 i 






This journey was painful and trying to the nerves. 
Day and night I lived in the greatest anxiety lest I should 
Ixi ' discovered and ignominiously unmasked. The farther 
\vc advanced southwards the more I was troubled by this 
apprehension. Should we succeed, or should we be forced 
back when we had traversed only half the distance across the 
blank space? Should I never cross the Trans-Himalaya 
again? At every stage our watchfulness and cautiousness 
increased, and also the tension of our nerves. I must 
always be on my guard and never hold a cigarette in my 
hand when we were on the march. My map sheets and 
compass I thrust into my bosom to l)e near at hand. 
When I collected a rock specimen, took a Ix-aring with 
the compass, or made a drawing near a tent, I.obsiing had 
to screen me, and he became astonishingly adept at this 
game. The sun 1 could observe only when we were quite 
sure that no Tilx'tan could see the instrument. Some- 
times I sat and drew a panorama through a peephole in 
the tent cloth. The sheep were my refuge, and with 
them I set out first, and had not to take part in the 
packing and loading, and I was spared from watching 
the animals at night, as in 1901. In Vx)th cases I was 
practically a prisoner in my tent, where the evening hours 
seemed very long. Nothing is so trying and irritating to 
the mind as this anxiety in which I lived, travelling in 
disguise, and expecting any moment to come to a crisis in 
my fate. 





M RCH 27. Nearly - 4° in the night - still winter. Bu* 
at one o'clock the temperature rose to 46i°-spnng was 

''In^'old mon sold us four sheep '" /^e morning and 
then prowled about our tents. He cou d not at all under- 
stand why we had come hither, especially at this season, 
but AMul Kerim told him that when we left Tok-jalung 
the most severe cold was over. This was a new story 
we had invented, bc-cause it was more Fobable than the 
former, and would pass better in the southern parts of the 

''''''llere, also, stood the usual tent with a view up to the 
pass, and I was obliged to go on foot up to the summit of 
The Ladung-la with its 17.395 f-t. But here the ^^'^'^"^ 
encouraging; we had level or declining ground before us for 
our days. The descent from the pass to the south was 
precipitous, and we stumbled and slidcd through the rubbish 
i^^hich rattled down khind us, and I had the satisfaction of 
ruining my boots and clothes more than ever. The valley 
m ned^ of! to the right, south-west, and in the Janglung 
chstrict, where we encamped, a young shepherd informed us 
that we should come to Tson.gpun Tashi s tent "^'^^ fay. 

Numerous spri.,,.s bubbled ^P J'^^ ']^\''f\^lZ 
and formed a little clear brook full o f\sh between grassy 
swards Here some of us halted and used Kutus prdle 
as a net. At the first haul we caught 18 fish, and we did no 

ds a iiLi. ^"^ _ ^ , ^ ^,.^ >^„t ^„„t,. sufficient 

cease liii we nad ibo — r.^-- ^^--n- "••• -> -7- --"- ,. , 
to feed all thirteen of us. It was amusing to see Little 







■A ' ^ - 






, I 


Puppy a^ he stood watrhinj^ attentively and rcf^ardinj^ the 
s|)ra\vliiii; ri>hes, barkini^ and stiahini,' his head. He had 
never in his litV seen running water before, and must 
have supposed that he could walk upon it a> safely as on 
clear ice. Quite unsuspiciously he jumped down from the 
^rass, where the brook was 2 feet deep, and entirely dis- 
appeared under the wati r. When he hail, with much 
• lilViculty, struggled u]) a^ain, he was much amazed and 
disconcerted, and prowled alx)Ut t^rowlini; with displeasure 
at the cold bath. After that he kejjt far away from the 
deceitful brook. 

March 28. Xow we saw that we could trust Takkar, 
so we let him loose. He did not run away, but was in the 
Ix^st of tempers, and Hew like an arrow over the slopes, 
enjoyinj^ his freedom, and played with Little Puppy, who 
U'came furious when the hu<^e brute came racin<; down on 
him with playful leaps, so that he rolled over and over 
on the ground. 

Abdul Kerim was to <i;o on the new horse with the 
Ladaki saddle, accompanied by two men, to look out for 
Tsongpun Tashi. He had plenty of money to buy any- 
thing he might fmd, and in reply to searching (|uestions he 
was to say that we had orders from (julam Razul to meet 
one of his caravans in Raga-tasam, which in about ten 
days was to leave Lhasa, and then accompany it to 

I had to ride my grey horse barebacked, but I had not 
got far before we passed two tents, where four Tilx'tans 
came out to look at us. Two of our men went and talked 
to them while the rest of us followed the brook through the 
valley. A little further and we had to Ix' careful again, for 
there wi-re three more tents and two large flocks, the 
owner of which possessed 3000 sheep. Sheepfolds, old 
camping-places, and nuiuis were all around, for we were on 
a great highway, and therefore I kept close to the sheep, 
and whistled and shouted at them. At the mouth of a side 
valley, on the left, stood a large white tent with blue 
l)orders, which was said to belong to the chief of the 
district, the Gova Chykying. A man came out of the tent, 
hurried after us, and asked whence we came and whither 




we were Roing. Two women came out of a tent inhabited 
by beggars, and put the same ([uestions. A mile or so 
farther we were out of sight of tents, and I jumi)e(l on my 
grey horse, but I could not ride far, for more tents appeared 
farther down the valley. We encamped l)y the side ()f the 
brook in the Rung sherya country, where the valley is very 
broad and open, and tents are seen in many directions. 
From one of these, which stood Ixlow ours, a man came 
and made incjuiries. lie said that one of the tents, which 
looked large and important. Ix'longed to Takyung Lama. 
ablx)t of Mendonggompa, a monastery three (lays' journey 
to the south-east. Xow we were in a warm corner, with 
the district chief, a high lama, and Tsongpun Tashi as 
near neigh lx)urs, and the (Governor of the great province of 
Bongba nf)t far off. It would \k- a marvel if we succeeded 
in making our way out of this wasp's nest. One thing 
was certain, that we must make olT ne.xt morning, before 
news of our arrival had spread alx)Ut. 

After we had waited several hours Abdul Kcrim came. 
We could see at a long distance that he had bought a horse, 
which was laden with sacks and bags containing rice, barley, 
butter, and tsamba. Tsongi)un Tashi proved to be an old 
man of a poverty-stricken and mean appearance, but his 
large tent was full of gocxls, sacks, and packets of tea, and 
his movable shop was very well stocked. Naturally he 
was much surprised at the visit, but he swallowed the story 
that Abdul Kcrim dished up for him. He had even given 
him the names of all the [)laces where we ought to camp 
on the way to Saka-dzong and Raga-tasam, and advised us 
to be well 'on our guard in a district he called Bupgo-lathit, 
where there were always robbers. He related that a band 
of robbers had, a few weeks before, attacked and plundered 
Targyaling-gompa, the monastery where we had met with 
such ' a hostile reception in June of the [)receding year. 
Forty men with horses and guns had been levied to chase 
the band, but Tsongpun Tashi said that these forty men 
were little better than robbers tliemselves, and that we 
ought to in(iuire about them, so as to avoid them as they 

v,.f.-..=-.-,,..l \'.,'m1 Ft-'"'"1 :-.r.-.rp.i-<'('. 

1^.-/ ,r»rTT^i in 

T.'ishi to 





barter our sick black horse for some provisions, but nbdul 







Kcrim did not know th;it AlxiuUah had already exchanged 
till' hor^c at thf bcgK^irs' tent for two sheep and a ^;oat. 
'I'here the faitliful horse would see hai)py days af^ain when 
the grass grew u|>. 

After Al)dul Kerim had drunk tea he went on to 
visit the (iova C'hykying. who came out of his tent and 
said that Takyung Lama had tliat very (hiy im|x)sed on 
liim eiglit (hiys' yciii^i^guk — that means that he must not 
transact any kind of business, but must devote himself 
(•nlirely, on account of his sins, to contemplation in his 
own house. That was Ane for us; the Gova was reduced 
t(j a negligitjle (juantity. 

NLirch .'Q. Temi)eraturc i,^° in the night, and 55° •'^t 
seven o'clock — this is spring. Welcome mild sidubrious 
breezes, come to thaw our fro/.i'n joints I 

Early in the morning came a couple of our men 
tram])ing along with anotlier dog, light yellow, dirty, and 
loatlisome. He was inhospital)ly received by Takkar, who 
immediately gave him a sharp i)inch in the neck, and 
seemed to think that the new member of the caravan was 
(|uite sui)erl1uous as long as he kept watch himself. 

Far in the north a solitary Tibetan ai)i)eared, and 
approached our camj). 1 was sitting at breakfast, and was 
hoping that we should soon leave this dangerous jjlace. 
I went out and looked through the field-glass; the stranger 
was making .straight for our ti-nts. Soon Alxlul Kerim 
came and said that it was Tsongjjun Tashi himself, lie 
stoiijK'd at some distance and called to us to tie up our 
dogs, for Takkar had rushed at the old man, who defended 
himself with stones. The men were purposely slow in 
fastening up the dogs, in order to give me time to put the 
interior of my tent in order. On .such occasions my note- 
books and instruments were crammed into a rice sack, 
which always stood ready. There was no other furniture, 
for we had burned all European articles and boxes long 

Meanwhile, Alxlul Kerim conducted Tsongpun Ta.shi 
into his tent, which stood close against mine, and 1 li.stened 
ill tluii"»n ;u ;i (li,^la!n.e (if little niuie lliiiii a 
vard. Bv degrees the talk became, to say the least of it, 





1 ; 




livdv Tsonfrpun Tashi raised his voice more and more. 
and'Alxlul Kcrim was evidently in a serious dilemma. 

"Did vou not i)romisc to give me the black horse in 
exchange 'for butter? Brin« the horse immediately. It 
vou do not keep your word. I will <ielain the whole pack 
of you here. We do not let men that break their word 
escape in Bongba. I thc^ught yesterday that you were 
honest men, but now I sec what you^ are up to. .Now 
1 shall begin by searching your tents." 

With that he got up as angry as a wasp and went out_ 
But Gulam, who was always alert and never lost a word ol 
a conversation, had let Takkar loose again. As soon as 
T-ncpun Tashi showed himself at the tent door the dog 
flcnv at him again. He back.xl. and Alxlul seized the 
opportunitv to call out in a gruff voice: ''^^^^^ take 
Hajji Bab'a with you and go and l(K)k for the lost horse. 
"What horse is that?" asked Ts)ngpun. 
"It is one of our horses which has run away up the 
mountain, and we cannot set out till we have found him." 

"What colour is he?" asked Tsongpun with uncom- 
fortable inciuisitiveness. u i ro; u , ;,, 
"Grev" replied Alxlul Kenm, who had difficulty in 
concealing his uneasiness, for it was he who had pledged 
the black steed without knowing whether it was still in our 

^^u^Very well, I shaU stay here till you have found the 

grey horse." . , , „ 

' During the minute this conver,s;ition lasted Isongpun 
Tashi had walke<l towards the opening of my tent, when 
Kutus came running up from the other side, seized me 
by the collar, and whispered "Come." We hurried oti to 
a crag on the north-east, and so just escaped the clutches 
of Tsongpun. 

"What man is that?" the old man asked, pointing at 
me, who was making off with clumsy waddling steps. 

"Hajji Baba, one of my servants," answered Abdul 

Kerim, without moving a muscle. . . j 

We did not look round as we went off to the pomt, and 

were glad when at length we were hidden l)y a projecting 

rock. Then we scrambled up a fissure whence we could 




— ^ ' --- 





sec all anjund. Ikn- wc lay a weary time with our hearts 
in our mouths, while 'I'sonj^pun Tashi waited for the run- 
away hor.^e, which hail not run away at all, for all our 
anirnals .sto<Kl rea<ly ladin before our tents. Hut he must 
have lost i)atience. After Oaffar had gone to the tent to 
try and get back the black horse, but met with a refusal, 
for the horse had been fed with barley and was getting on 
si)lendidly, Tsongpun Tashi seemed to make in that direc- 
tion himself, accompanied by (laiTar. But he changed his 
mind, for he turned back half way, and soon we saw him 
going to the fme tent <jf the soul doctor, which stood alxjut 
300 yards farther down the valley. He was attended by 
one of our men, who helped him to carry the sacks 
in which the goods accjuired the previous day were 

We remained quiet in our hiding place of much- 
weathered green schist, full of (juartz veins, from which we 
could peep out without being seen. We were supposed 
to be looking for the lost horse. Ikit now the caravan was 
ready, and began to move down the valley past the abbot's 
tent. Tson'/pun Tashi's errand had been to take farewell 
of the prel, c, who was setting out this day for Mendong- 
gompa, absolutely unknown in all the maps in the world, 
and his yaks stood tethered and surrounded by a troop of 
servants. Abdul Kerim was shrewd enough to send no 
messenger after us, but leave us to take care of ourselves. 
And so we did when we had had enough of the green schist 
— we could not lie still till doomsday. But we had to pass 
the abbot's tent, and there sat Tsongpun Tashi, unless he 
were among the men outside. We sneaked on. Kutus 
walked next the tent to screen mc. My disguise was 
perfect, and I had a black face. We passed with some 
trepidation quite close to the tent; two savage dogs 
rushed at us and we threw stones at them, thereby de- 
ranging our order of march and making a change of front. 
Confounded dogs! We had passed the tent, and, so far, 
had done well. But if Tsongpun Tashi noticed us — and 
he could scarcclv fail to rlo so, for the dogs barked so 
furiously — he would certainly wonder in which direction 
the grey horse had made otT. If he had no suspicion of 





us he must Ik-, Inyond comparison, the f^rcatcst ass that I 
had ever falkn in with. 

VVc made haste and .s<K)n overtook the others, and 
were lost amont^ tliem. The valley sloped down - a fortu- 
nate thin^; for me, as I had to travel on foot where so 
many i)itfalls surrounded me on all sides. Alxlul Kerim 
nxle j;randly on n.y horse at the head of the party. On 
the left were a while and blue and a black, tent wi'th twenty 
yaks. Two men hurried up to us, and Alxlul Kerim met 
and .spoke to them. We marched alonj^ the ice belt of the 
bro<jk, and passed five more tents, and, at all, the men 
came out to look at us. I walked with the sheep farther 
from the tents th m the caravan. We passed twenty tents 
that day; it was a dangerous .stretch of country, and it was 
strange that we came through .safely. 

A woman, carrying a load of w(K)1 on her back, over- 
took us. She was so bold as to join herself to the caravan 
and ask to be alUnved to put her wool on one of the yaks. 
Never have I so heartily wished a woman at the devil. 
Alxlul Rasak took the woman in hand and offered to carry 
half her load to her tent, and so they jogged along the 
road far ahead, and freed us from her suspicious company. 
We took it for granted that she was a spy. When we 
encamped Ix-low a sheepfold, there she Wc.s again, estab- 
lished herself inside the fold, lighted a fire and fetched 
water. She must drink tea before she went on home- 
wards, she said; but fortunately she toddled off Iteiorc 

I sat in the setting sun and noted down the vat.ed 
incidents of the day. I siit in the opening of my tent 
enjoying the soothing rustle of the spring, when what 
should I see but Takkar himself, who came up to me 
anxiously and humbly, made the most expressive gestures, 
put his head on one side and began to paw my arm. I 
looked at him and he looked at me, and at last we under- 
stood each other. 

"I could not know," he said, "that you were nice men 
when you tied me by the neck to this horrible tent pole. 
I thought that you would tease and torment and starve mc, 
and throw stones and dirt at me, as the Tibetans have done 











over since I can rememlxT. Hut I see that you are well 
disposed towards me. and «ive ine two gcHKl meals of 
mutton every day. 1 know that you, in spite of your ra^s, 
are a lx)ml)o chimlx), and that Alxlul Kerim is only a ser- 
vant. Be at ease. 1 will not let any <jne come near your 
tent; I will watch over you at ni^lit, I will never betray 
you, I will follow you everywhere; you may trust in me. 
Hut now come and play with me a little; take away this 
useless tenl pole, and let us Ik.- no longer strangers." 

His shrewd brown eyes showed plainly that this was 
what he meant to say, word for word. 1 t(M)k his shaggy 
head in my arms and' s(|ueezed it. Then he jumpe<l up on 
me and began to dance ancl yelp with joy, and enticed me 
out of my tent. Then I took hold of him again, untied 
the knots, and released him from his p<)lc, to thf great 
astonishment of my men, who were sitting in the open 
around a fire. No one had ever ventured so near to 
Takkar, except Little Puppy, and without the slightest 
jealousy the little cub joined in the game, which hence- 
forth whiled av\ay daily a couple of hours of my weary 




It was with a feeling of relief that wc broke up our camp 
on March 30, after we had succeeded in extricating our- 
selves from the net which had so nearly held us fast in its 
meshes. Through here runs the so-called Scnmn-lam, or 
gold inspectors' road, which extends through the interior 
of Tibet from Lhasa to Tok-jalung, and is one of the 
greatest highroads of the country. We did not yet feel 
quite safe, but we had heard some assuring news: Karma 
Puntso had taken a journey of several days northwards 
to a place in Chang-tang where he owned large flocks of 
sheep. Most of the nomads in Bongba had sent their 
sheep to the north where the grazing was much better. 
This was of great advantage to us, for now only women, 
old men, and children remained in the tents of Bongba, 
while most of the men were following the sheep. It was 
part of the trial of my patience that I could not have the 
sUghtest dealings with Tilx-tans, for I should have betrayed 
myself at once by my defective utterance of the language. 
I 'never talked with them, but pulled the strings of my 
marionettes from my place of concealment. 

The wild-geese had now commenud their migrations, 
and we constantly heard their cries above our tents. On 
March 30 we found an excellent path along the river in 
which we had caught fish just Ix-Iow Ladung-la. The 
country was very open and flat, and we passed at some 
distance from twelve lenls. Near the last wc pitchevi 
camp 368 and bought a black horse. We had now four 

VOL. II ill V 





horses, of which one was a veteran from Ladak ; now I 
rode the first horse we had bought — a brown one. The 
last three mules and the t^^o yaks from the Tsong-tso were 
in good condition. When we encamped near natives, 
Takkar was tied up outside the entrance to my tent to 
keep off inquisitive visitors. He had been bred and reared 
among Tibetans, and had never seen any other j)eoplc in 
his life till lately, and yet now he became mad with rage if 
he saw a Tibetan only at a distance. I had often to pay 
various sums in rupees to those of his two-leggetl fellow- 
countrymen whose brcechesless legs he had bitten, and he 
was never contented without a slight effusion of blood. 

We followed the river south-south-westwards for another 
day's journey to camp 369, where some poor nomads were 
encamping by a sheet of snow. Sha-kangsham's summit 
came into sight again, this time to the north, 30° E., rising 
like a gigantic Ix'acon above the mountains. Five days' 
journey to the west-north-west was pointed out the salt 
lake, Tabie-tsaka, the position of which I had sought in 
vain to ascertain from the lasam. In the afternoon when 
I sat outsit'e to draw a panorama, nomads were strolling 
and peering about so that I had to post watchmen. In 
the evening all around was pitch dark: there was no moon, 
only dense clouds. Our animals had disappeared, and as 
there was good reason to fear wolves and horse-stealcrs, 
eight men were sent out to look for them. They had 
revolvers, and fired a few shots to let any possible disturbers 
of the peace know that we were armed. The animals 
would not freeze, for the temperature fell in the night only 
to 18°, and in the morning they had come back again all 
right. The only one missing was the greyish yellow dog; 
thinking, perhaps, that he had fallen into bad company, he 
had gnawed through his rope and run home in the night to 
his miserable tent. 

Now the path runs south-south-west up to the little 
easy pass Satsot la (15,932 feet) in red porphyry and with 
a way-mark. In the wide valley in front of us lies the 
lake Chunit tso, and on its farther side rises a red mountain 
of regular form. We pass several niatjis, and on the right 
hand a miniature lake called Chabuk-tso, where Tubges 




shot two wild-geese. The honorary huntsman often sup- 
plied me with game; he was called by his comrades simply 
Shyok, after his home, just as we call one of our acquaint- 
ances Jonkoping or Falsterbo. 

We crossed a great road running to the north-west ; 
hundreds of yaks had recently passed — no doubt a salt 
caravan on the way to Tabie-tsaka. Then we passed a 
circular wall, where a solitary man came out and looked at 
us, but retired behind the wall when he found that we would 
have nothing to do with him. A fine matii decorated with 
horhs stood on a terrace, and just Ix^low it we halted for 
the night by a sheet of ice produced by springs. We had 
scarcely set up the tents when a caravan of several hundred 
sheep, laden with salt, came along from the north-west. 
Only two armed guides were with it; they had been to 
Tab-' -tsaka and were now going home to Yangchut-tanga, 
twenty days' journey to the south-east. In the same direc- 
tion 400 yaks were grazing, which were said to belong 
to the gova of the district. In the evening we had a visit 
from a traveller who was going home to his tent farther 
souiii. He promised to sell us three sht.'p in the morning. 
Would he keep his word? 

Yes, certainly; he met us with the sheep next day as 
we were passing along the western shore of the Chunit-tso 
(15,574 feet) southwards. At the northern extremity of 
the lake a warm sulphurous spring burst forth. We were 
told that if a man drinks of it he Ixxomes ill, but if he 
mi.xes the water with some from an adjacent cold spring he 
is cured of any complaint he may suffer from. Sick sheep 
and g(jats are dipped in the warm water and become well 
again at once. The spring is holy, and a muni heap is set 
up near it. The lake is slightly salt and fro/x-n. Two 
small brooks enter it from the mountains on the west; a 
third brook, Lungnak-bupchu, formed a large sheet of ice, 
and in the mouth of its valley stood a couple of tents, 
and their dogs came down on us like a whirlwind, but 
received such a thrashing from Takkar that they showed 
themselves no more that evening. 

April 3. We left the southern end of the lake Isehind us 
and ascended a small valley leading up to the low pass Xima- 



:} I 








lung-la, near which \vc encamped in a barren spot Ixtween 
granite crags. An eagle-owl sat in a cleft and at twilight 
uttt.-red its shrill piercing cry. Lol)sang said that this bird 
was thought much of in tilx-t, because it warns honest 
men of thieves and roblxTs. When the eagle-owls sit and 
scream, roblx,'rs are certain to be in the neighlxjurhood. 

On April 4 we had only half an hour's march to the 
threshold of the Xima-lung-la (16,017 feet), from which 
there is a magnificent view over the Trans-Himalaya — 
a series of dark rocks with black, snow-crowned peaks. 
Between us and the range extended a wide perfectly level 
I^lain, full of pools, marshes, and rivulets. At one of them 
sat two Tibetans cutting up a yak which had died. They 
confirmed the information we had received before, that we 
were now in the district Bongba-kemar, a day's journey 
from Bongba-kebyang, and that we must follow the river 
Buptsang-tsang[)0 for several days upwards to reach Saka- 
dzong by the pass Samye-la. I had still a very dim and 
indistinct notion of the geograi^hical configuration of this 
region. Was the range in front of us to the south a con- 
tinuation of Nien-chen-tang-la, which I had crossed at the 
Sela-la, Chang-la-P(xl-la and Angden-la; or was it another 
range disconnected from the former? During the following 
days we should obtain an answer to this question. Should 
we Ix! successful, and be able to complete this exceedingly 
important meridional traverse through an unknown part of 
Tibet? It would Ix; more than provoking to be stopped 
just at the northern foot of the Trans-Himalaya. 

Camp 374 was pitched below the opening of a valley 
where there were two tents. The nomads warned us 
against the water in the pools of the plain: our horses 
would lose their hair if they drank of it. "Snoring" 
Kunchuk complained of toothache, but was cured at once 
by two resolute comrades. The operation was performed 
with pincers properly intended for horse-shoe nails. To 
get at the tooth better, they put a stone in the patient's 
mouth. "Do not kill me," he shriekcxi when the tooth 
jumped out. 

On April 5 wc travelknl altogether 10^ miles to the 
south. Th country was perfectlv barren, and the ground 





was entirely covered with red porphyry detritus. A small 
spring surrounded by grass seemed to us quite an oasis, 
and there we encamped near a sheepfold and a mam 


Another day's march and we came to the Buptsang- 
tsangyw, "the deeply excavated river," and followed it to 
the south. The river is divided into several arms, and 
already contained a deal of water, though for the most 
])art it was frozen. This valley is about 3 miles broad 
and has a very gentle slope. The locality where we 
encamped after passing fourteen tents was called Monlam- 
gongma (15,820 feet). Hence the river was said to flow 
tive days' journey to the north-north-west and pour into a 
large lake, called the Tarok-tso. We might have attempted 
to make an excursion in that direction, but it was more 
important to complete the meridional line while the country 
was still open to us. Two huge snowy peaks which the 
nomads here, as on the tasav:, called Lunpo-gangri, or 
"the great ice mountain," were said to lie to the right 
of the route we ought to follow to Saka-dzong. This 
information was exceedingly puzzling, and I saw that 
Lunpo-gangri with the summits triangulated by Ryder 
and Wood could not be a prolongation of the mighty 
range I had crossed by three passes, and which, farther 
cast, bears the name Xien-chen-tang-la. 

After a vain attempt to get rid of our enfeebled yaks, 
we continued up the great river along its right or eastern 
bank terrace. A south-westerly storm which commenced 
some days before still continued. In the Amchung country 
(camp 376) we had a neighbour called Kamba Dramdul, 
who could not give much information, but what he said 
was of deep interest. We had still some days' journey to the 
Samvc-la — all up the Buptsang-tsangpo valley, with ^attgris 
or snowy heights on lx)th the right and left sides. On the 
pass we should be quite close to the peaks of Lunpo- 
gangri. I already suspected that the great range we had 
on our k ft — that is, towards the east — was a continuation 
of Xien-chen-tang-la, vvhile Lunpo-gangri was a quite 
in('eDe""'cnt chain without the li'ast connection with the 


( «' 







The eastern range increased in magnitude on the 
following (lay's march, and among its dark ramifications 
rose some rather flat summits ca])\)v(\ with eternal snow. 
VVe kiiit for the most part to the top of the terrace on the 
right , ank, wliich was 50 to 65 feet aljove the river, and 
fell steei)Iy to the even valley Ijottom where the stream 
meandered. Here the valley was alx)Ut 2 miles broad. 
The ice mantle of the river became wider and thicker the 
higher we mounted, but the rise was very gradual. From 
camp 377 the culminating peak of Lunpo-gangri lay south, 
2f E. Every day's journey we accomplished 'without 
adventures strengthened our position. The nomads must 
think: If these men travel right through the whole of 
Bonglm without being stopped, they cannot Ix- impostors. 

On Aj)ril 10 we travelled 8^ miles up the Buptsang- 
tsangpo, and we were astonished to find so voluminous a 
river up on the isolated plateau countrv. On its banks 
ducks and geese cackled in large numk-rs. Tubges shot 
several of them; it was a sin to disturb their dreams of 
spring and love. No human being was seen this day. I 
had a feeling of repose when we could see no black tents, 
and for the sake of peace I would readilv abstain from 
S()ur milk. The view to the south-south-east was mag- 
nificent; the peaks of Lunpo-gangri sto(xl out against the 
jiure blue sky in dazzling white, with shades of light blue 
mdicating ice. On the east also of our route appeared a 
whole workl of mountains. Most uncxpectedlv the summits 
of Lunpo-gangri have a much grander and more imposing 
appearance from the northern side, towards the plateau 
country, than from the south side, the valley of the 
Brahmaputra, most probably because on the southern side 
they are to^ near. Up in the north we saw them at all 
distances, and for several davs we had them right in front 
of us. 

In the night of April 11 the temperature sank to - 1.7°, 
and on the preceding nights to 3.7°, 13.5°, and 17.2°. The 
cold increased as we mounted higher. We came to an 
expansion in the valley where three glacier streams unite 
to f,,rm the Ruptsang-tsangpo, just as in the case of the 
Hrahmaj)utra, and also on the northern Hank of one of 








the world's mif^hticst mountain systems. Our camp 379 
(16,112 feet) was pitched close to the river in Hupyunf^- 
ring. The eastern headwater comes j)artly from the Sam- 
ye-la, partly from mountains arljoininj; on the south-west. 
The middle one descends from a massive called Vallak- 
mallak, and the western from Chom()-f,Mnf^ri; south-cast 
of this mountain is Lunpo-gangri, which is drained to 
the sea, both from its northern and its southern flank 
(Illustrations 319, 320, 321). 

Hupyung-ring is one of the finest and most lx;autiful 
regions I have seen in Tilxt. The flat wide valley, 
surrounded by mountains with ice and snow, is clothed 
with abundant grass and traversed by numerous water- 
courses. Everywhere arc seen traces of cam[)ing-places. 
At the time we passed through only a few tent villages 
remained, but the valley is full of life in summer when 
the nomads come down from the north, \^■hen the 
melting of the snows properly sets in during summer, and 
afterwarr's in the rainy season, the Buptsang-tsangpo 
swells up so tremendously that the river cannot Ix.^ crossed 
for three months, and communication lx.'tween the banks 
is interrupted. From its source to its outlet in the 
Tarok-tso the river is probably nearly 100 miles long, and 
is possibly the largest river in Tilx't which does not flow 
to the sea. The only rivers that can vie with it arc the 
Sachu-tsangpo, which flows into the Zilling-tso, and the 
Soma-tsangpo, which falls into the Teri-nam-tso. The 
Sachu-tsangpo was far larger than the Buptsang when I 
crossed it in the rainy season in 1901. But the Buptsang 
is also a large river in spring, and in the rainy season 
must swell as much as the Sachu. The Buptsang-tsangpo 
has hitherto lx>en unknown to Europeans, but we find the 
Tarok-tso on D'Anville's map, and a river entering the 
lake from the south, which no doubt is identical with 
the Buptsang-tsangpo. The Jesuits who resided in Pekin 
two hundred years ago, and were ordered by the Emperor 
Kang Hi to compile a map of the whole Chinese Empire, 
procured information even about this remote region from 
Chinese and Tiix-'ian sources. 

During the past days our two yaks had lx;comc so 




wearied and footsore that we had to }^et rid of them at any 
price. We therefore stayed a day in Bui)yun},' and bar- 
tered them for nine shee]). which took over the loads of 
the yaks. Now we ha<l again thirty-one sheep and some 
On th 

commenc k 
Here were 

1 :5th we came to the foot of the mf)Untain where 
the actual steej) ascent to the pass itself, 
fuur tents inhabited e.\clu>ively by women and 
The men had gone a coui)le of days Ix-fore to 
(}()va Tsepten's tent. It is incuml)ent on this chief to 
collect a certain number of men and yaks, which for 
about three months are posted on the l<isa»i ready to 
tran>port goods on behalf of the DiAashung without com- 
pensation. This is a kind of con-cc which is exacted not 
only all along the road l)etween Lhasa and Ladak, but on 
all other great high-roads in Tibet. Naturally this inju- 
dicious svstem is a great annf)yance to the nomads, who 
have to leave their Hocks in the meantime to the care of 
women and children. If any one wishes to escai)e this 
compulsory service he must supj)ly a substitute, pay him, 
and furnish him with yaks and provisions. The year 
before, when we travelled with hired horses from Shi- 
gatse, the i)oor nomads served us, but we always paid 
them' honourably and gave them handsome gratuities 

as well. 

After a night temperature of -0.8° we rode uj) to the 
pass on the 14th, over and between hills and across the 
brook which brings its tribute from the Samve-lr to the 
Ikii)t>ang-tsangpo. Solid rock could not be found, but all 
the detritus and lK)ulders were of grey granite; seldom 
was a piece of porphyry noticed. The usual observa- 
tions were made on the pass, and the lxjiling-point_ ther- 
mometer was read olT. The view of Luni)o-gangri was 
grander than ever, now that its peaks were quite near. 
The distinctly marked valley of the Buptsang-tsangpo 
disappeared in the distance to the north-north-west, while 
to the south-east nothing could be seen but a flat saddle, 
whence T cf)ncludetl that we were not yet on the actual 
water-parting pass. We had not followed the track of the 
caravan far, before wc saw a brook coming from the south- 





cast, which also Ix-lonj^cd to the HuptsanK-tsangpo. On 
its bank, whiTc we also hahcd, was encamped a caravan of 
eight men and 350 yaks, which was carrying salt to Saka- 
dzong, six (lays' march farther. These men could not 
understand why we, merchants fnjm Ladak, chose such a 
way. and asked how we ftjund it out. They were treated 
to the usual story alxjut the wo(<l-trade in summer, and 
they regretted that they could not serve us with their yaks, 
as they were called out for Government transport on the 
great high-roads. Xow we wondered whether they would 
let the Governor of Saka-dzong know that they had met 
with a party of Ladakis on byways, and if this news would 
injure us. Perhajjs, after all, it would be best to avoid 
Saka-dzong altogether. 

On -April 15 it was our chief desire to get in advance 
of the yak caravan. Hefore they had begun to load up 
their animals I started otT with the sheep, and came in good 
time to the summit of the Samye-la with its streamer- 
decked poles. Though we were all the way in sight of 
the yak-men's camp, I must, at any cost, determine the 
height of the pass, and the distance was so great that they 
could not see what we were doing. After boiling the 
thermometer, whence we obtained a height of 18,133 feet, 
I also drew a panoram;i. To the south and south-east was 
a world of mountains belonging to the Lun{)o-gangri ange, 
which lay to the south, and to Xien chen-tang-la on the 
north. We were therefore standing on the actual water- 
shed Ix'twccn two gigantic ranges, which are both mcmlx.Ts 
of the Trans-IIimalayan family. And this pass, the 
la. occupies the highest and most important rank from a 
hydrograi)hic and orographical point of view that any pass 
in Asia can lay claim to, for it is a divide between the 
isolated drainage area of the plateau on the north and the 
boundless ocean on the south. It ranks, then, with the Sela- 
la, Chang-la-Pod-la, and .Angden-la, and is much more im- 
portant than the Tseti-lachen-la, which is only a watershed 
between the Sutlej and the Indus, and than the Jukti-la, 
which parts the waters between the two arms of the Indus. 
.'\l the Samye-Ia I attained my chief desire, to cross the 
Trans-Himalaya between the Tseti-lachen-la and the Ang- 






(It-n-Ia, anrl ^ain another point on the immense lH)un(lary 
h'ne on the north of tlie basins of thi- «reat Indian rivers, 
and I succeeded in i)rovinK' the unhroken continuance 
of the Trans-Himalaya U)V iiS miles west of An^den la. 
A most extraordinarily interesting discovery also was that 
the An^'den la and the Samye la, thou.ijh of exactly the 
same value as watersheds, do not lie on the same cham. 
The An-^den-la is situated on the western prolonj^Mtion ()f 
the chain which stands on the southern shore of TenKri- 
nor, and is known hv the name of Xien-chen-tan,t,'-la, hut 
the' Samve-la lies in a lon<,'itU(linal valley l)etween this 
chain and Luni)o-^'anf,m. Accordin.t^dy. I could strike out 
once and for all the continuous mountain ranj^e which 
Hodgson and Saunders constructed at their writing' table, 
and represented as running' north of the upper Brahma- 
putra. Here also I considered what name I should f^ive 
to the colossal mountain system which runs in the north 
parallel to the Himalavas. The name Lunpo-f^'angri had 
at least as much claim as Xien-chen-tanj^-la, but both 
were unsuitable, as they only denoted certain ranj^es in a 
whole system, and therefore had only local si<j;nificance. 
Then it came to me like a Hash — Trans-Himalaya is the 
name which I will attach to this gigantic mountain system. 
While I sat and pondered over the great idea which 
had come to me this day without any merit of my own, I 
was recalled to the buHncss of the moment by Lobsang, 
who informed me that die yaks were moving in a black 
line up to the pass. Then we got up and went on foot 
down the slopes bestrewn with troublesome rubbish and 
granite boulders. Soon trickling rivulets collected into a 
small brook. I regarded with pleasure this little stream leap- 
ing among the stones, and listened to its jjurling song. It 
was the old melodv, and we had recently heard it from the 
broc'-s of the Buptsang-tsangjx). And yet I seemed to 
hear an undertone of another kind, a sound in the water 
which suggested a new aim. The Buptsang-tsangjx)^ is 
doomed to Vinal annihilation in the Tarok-tso and Tabie- 
tsaka, where the water is evaporated and dispersed to the 
four winds of heaven. Tiul the brook wc now foilowed 
debouches into the Chaktak-tsangpo and Brahmaputra, and 




its destiny is the Indian Ocean, over which runs the way 
to my home. 

We had just set up our tents before the yaks came 
tramping uj) in close order, followed by their whistling and 
sinf,'in^ drivers. They went round, not to come t(M) near 
us. Were they afraid of us or were they sus[)icious? 
Were they a cloud, no larper than a man's hand, from 
which, in due time, a destructive tornado was to burst over 
our little band, whi( h now for the second time crossed the 
forbidden land without leave? 

,;«• lif* * 



In former timis the glacier tongues of Lunpo-gangri 
ran down into the- valley, and traces of them were very 
fonspiruous as we descended to lower country on April i6. 
The valley is (|uite full of old moraines, consisting:; ex- 
clusively of ^'''iri't'-". 'i"*l some of them arc sui)erficially 
concealed under fme matter and moss. \Vc passed the 
larj,'e vak caravan aj^ain, which was encamping after a very 
short march. Evidently the men intended to stay over the 
next day, for the loads were taken olT the yaks and piled 
up. Wiien they mean to set out again the next day they 
leave the loads on the yaks, for they think it too much 
trouble to load and unload 350 yaks for a single night. 
Thev might stay for us as long as they liked ; we should 
get in advance and pass by Saka-dzong before we were 
denounced. Hut no, it would Ix* wiser to avoid Saka-dzong 
altogether; not to escape the sight of Muhamed Isa's 
grave, but not to needlessly expose ourselves to suspicion. 
It was perfectly evident that the authorities would wonder 
why a small party of I.adakis went along byways instead 
of following the great tasam, and they would hold an 
inquiry over us. 

After the moraines came to an end we traversed a 
more open expansion of the valley, with luxuriant grass 
and millions of detestable mouse-holes. We were right glad 
when Takkar [)inched the necks of one or two of these 
obnoxious rodents. Tubges supplied me with partridges, 

i: : :•,: • r: :v • *i ' -m : ^* -c: v- jr :\ t •:•..• t 1 1 :i. tl • : : • 'j • ■ •! : :i::r.. . F : •-■in v ti 1 1 tj • 

3.S5 Lunpo-gangri's summits are seen foreshortened, and 


;2.v WKivnis.'.. ;.•^ T-o wi. Ii'>v wirit Mm 52;. Siu.i'ukri. Hoy. 

(iN'lVlUiXNTS lih rllK l'Ki>VIS( K l)V licjMiHX,) 
Skct. hi-> liv the Author. 




i^^i^|!^'^J^^ii$§*0^.fe'|&ly^. v,nV^ 

'-:;.«L;Y-'itor»F Aife^ 




one of them is as small as an umbrella. Several peaks are 
seen to the east-south-east, the continuation of the range, 
and it is not ditTicult to infer that Chomo-uchong, the 
isolated mountain beside the lasum, lies in the eastern 
prolongation of Lunpo-gangri. I took bearings of the 
higher summits in the neighbourhood from every camj), 
and shall hereafter make known ihe results. 

The other men make the "Snorer's" life miserable. At 
eight o'clock he crawls into his lair l)eside the sheej), and 
immediately begins his wood-sawing. Some one yells at 
him, and he wakes up and makes some witty remark, which 
makes the men laugh, and he never loses his temper. In 
two minutes he is asleep again and sawing as hard as ever, 
and is roused by another shout. Only when the others 
have fallen asleep is he left in peace, and can saw as hard 
as he likes. 

Little Puppy k'haves s[)lendidly, is lively, playful, and 
affectionate. At night he sleeps on the rugs at my feet and 
helps Takkar to keep watch. They are my companions, 
and it will be hard to part from them. 

April 17. 0.7°. How long this winter has been! Now 
Lobsang has come to the conclusion that the yak drivers 
will not denounce us for fear lest they shoukl Ix; called to 
account for not spying upon us better. We continue our way 
down the valley. How delightful only to go for some clays 
to lower country. In some places we see summer camping- 
grounds ; now the country is desolate and deserted. 

The river carries down atout 70 cubic feet of clear 
water per second; it has open water only in the middle, 
and elsewhere is covered with margins of ice 2 feet thick, 
and icicles hang from their edges. On the banks, field- 
mice dart about between their holes. The valley contracts 
and the river often skirts steep clifTs of schist. Most of the 
tributaries, and the largest of them, come from the chain 
which is the immediate continuation of Xien chen-tang-la. 
The ice becomes thicker the more the valley contracts 
and the longer it is in shadow. We often c-oss it from 
one bank to the other, where it forms a bridge. Stags' 
horns are set up on a muni heap; where do chcy come 
from? This valley runs between the two ranges like the 







Buptsang-tsangpo. On this day we never see a man or a 

tent. . . 

In the evening a night owl again sat screeching atx)ve 
tlie camp, and the Lachikis were convinced that it meant 
to warn us against robbers. If these knew that a European 
with European weapons was in the caravan they would not 
attack it; but we were only Ladakis, and the Tibetans 
despise Ladakis and look upon them as cowards. 

On the 1 8th we travelled southwards to the place 
(15407 feet) where our valley enters the Rukyok valley, 
running down from the west-north-west, at the bottom 
of which some of the Lunpo-gangri summits were again 
visible Still no men were to be seen, only numerous 
summer camping-places. l\vo horsemen rode past our 
camp on the other, r-ht, side of the vo'ley. What did 
they want? Were thev spies? We had every reason to 
suspect a spv in everv human being. No; they were kiang 
hunters from (iertse; who had left their home and were 
seeking new dwellings in another province, because of 
some uni.leasantness with the Certse Pun, the potentate 
whom we were carefully making away from. They informed 
us that we were a dav's journey from Pasa-guk, where 
I had encamped the year before, and three short marches 
from Saka-dzong. It was hazardous to pass so near a 
governor's residence. Abdul Kerim Ixjught one of the 
rider's horses for 100 rupees. 

This day I put on for the first time a new Ladaki 
costume. The other was too warm, and, being red, was 
conspicuous among the others. The new coat was made 
of worn tattered sackcloth, and was stained with ashes and 
soot. In this I looked just like the other m.n,^ Now 1 
painted mv face regularlv everv day, and he must be a very 
smart fellow who could find out that I was not a genuine 
Ladaki. Wc had hitherto got on remarkably well, and had 
onlv a dav's journev to a place where I had been the year 
before. But the nervous tension increased more and more, 
and I wondered every morning what surprises the new day 
had in store for us. 

April iQ. As we were starting, two men passed on 
foot, driving before them 200 ^in.x|. kuicu wui; ban. v^^= 

w' ■''cy^Ti/r*''s»'^T"*^ 

.„,.., KS,,K ... MM SNKN ri..'>lNO,. ,.- M ^ S ^M . H V M N. .. , V K C N '. 1 N 

S.,NVM Ni.i i ill - 1.-. 'MM, ;:.- I \..i \ 'i -i fin... h... in;;:; ^^ ;;ii ::.: i :.:j 
lo 1,1, r -,11 ...) 1.) nil l)\s'.i' v M'\i-i-.i 

Sk. u lua bv iIk' Aulli.)r. 











wav was the same as theirs and wc had to pass them. 
While I drove our own sheep down the road, Abdul Kcnm 
stopped and talked with the men, to draw off their attention. 
But we could sec that thev were interested m our strange 
party, and looked closely at us. I limped, thinking that 
the Tibetans had never seen a lame Euroi)ean, if they had 
seen anv European at all. But the people had seen me ui 
Pasa-Ruk and Saka-dzong the year before, and then 1 dul 
not halt. I had come off well from our troul^lesome neigh- 
bours and also past the large yak caravan, whir'^ a couple 
of davs ago had turned otT another way but had now come 
into ours again. We met a J-rge sheep caravan wUh a 
mounted party; a woman was said to be the wife o. the 
Gova of Rukyok. The people we had just met were not 
so dangerous as those that followed. , , , , 

We left the Rukvok river farther and farther to the 
right, and di-ectly to the south appeared quite close the 
loftv sumn 'lich rises alwve Pasa-guk. We had left the 
salt-laden ..cp and the yaks behind us, and we came at 
length to the bank of our old friend the Chaktak-tsangjio, 
which was considerably smaller than at the end of ^/ay and 
beginning of June the year before. Here we left the high- 
road to the south, and marched northwards along the 
Chaktak-tsangpo's right, or we.,tern bank, where we soon 
encamped on a meadow (15.203 feet). 

When Abdul Kerim came V)ack he was very solemn. 
He had had great difTicultv in answering questions why 
we followed a bv\%av along the Chaktak-tsangpo instead 
of taking the highway to Saka-dzong as all other travellers 
did He had replied' that we were sent to find out how 
much sh-ep's wool would be for sale in the country next 
summer. Then the men of the salt caravan had said: 
"You cannot be afraid of robbers; they frequent the moun- 
tains up here. Are you well armed?" 

"Yes we have two guns and some revolvers." 
"You' will want them. We sec that you are peaceful 
people, so we warn vou. Si.x days ago a robber band 
eighteen men strong, each with his horse anrl gun, attacked 
a tent village here in the neigh l)ourhood. They piljaged 
^ tents, took 40c sheep and abuut 200 vuks, anu n.Oae ?;•:; 

T 1 







"^'^•T;' .nu^U ";:"'".»■;. „o m"„Vt„.n,,h ... .rav^ in 
•',■"'" 1,;.; V .r.u..h llu- f.Vbi.UWn land. As Ions 

as thcTc was .laylii; . ' '^ ■^'^" , ^vj c .Irivon U|, near to 
al«,ut an.l 'f ''^;-; ' ' !' „^1''';;.„ c.,..l.l talk of nothinR 
tho li-nts. Ill till- ninmg m mu himsc-lf, took 

,,„.„,,,,,.„, •.■-":j,, «■'::;,,-;; ,:';.':.. r„ani.c.l 

sent a^ a I>r<)oi i" , , r^ ^^y^^ ,3 

towns punishment .s -p' ^^'^ \^" ,^.,";, Xr magistrate 
taken out an<l a hand cu of. "^^ ^;;7;;;,„^otion, but 

^^•^^"^f'-ile^H hIsX s ,mr:^::i^'l We heard that 
one who net^lect^ "^ '"^> '* Ra-'a-tsan^o is 

">^ ^''^'"t rrc... h nc.r..t n.l,b ;: and-is visiifd by 
notoru)US as a rci^uiar ne»i ^i 

^^t^t^\^^'h^^- M;:;i:;S;ns amon. mv Ladakis 
n ith ^anu n el. lious hvmn I had f.rst heard at Km\- 

' lM,r ''tlhhu eki)er-' echoed amon^ the rocky chlTs; 

unkur. "I"'^'.^ .^^ :-f^.^.^i,., in protecting true behevers 
^^"■* , V.-of the heathen.'' Thev had all at once 

'S^. ^See^Jv^ n^i- a^'" ^ the 'robbers' paradise. 

"Allahu ekl)er;' God is ^ 

tents" from the north. Ihe heid-^ia» rccmeeu -.-.u.. .■ 

two men, a woman, 

ti. 1 lie u-m-r;'" ■ • , . .. 

and some vaks. They made a circuit 




a. though thcv wcr. afraid of u>. hut Abdul kcnm ha l.< 
thim to KH't infnrmati..n about the road I h.n uv marched 
(,n dircctlv ciu.tward^ alon- the northern bank of t he 
Cliaktak t^n-po. The accent was very Kra.lual. thc 
vallev fairlv' broad an<l with almndant pa>ture. No tent 
Was "seen "but >ummer (■anip> were numerous. A cairn 
marks the pkice where the Chaktak tsan-po conim- from 
the north io° W., unite> with its tributary the Cebuk chu 
from the ea^t. To the north north east rise two Miowy 
ncaks of medium lui-ht witli small -laeiers. It was evidert 
that the Chaktak tsan-i.o Hows from the country to the 
north of them, for the deeply excavated transverse vahey of 
the river could be clearlv traced. The main river may 
carrv down alK)Ut 2:0 cubic feet in a second, and the 
aftluent alK.ut 70. In this district the river '^ cal le.l 
Kamchun-chu: the name Chaktak tsan-po Charta- 
tvuvM.o a^ it is incorrectlv called by Nam Sin^') is not 
applied to it alK)ve I'asa-guk. We encamped in the an^le 
between the two riviTs near a meadow where three horses 
were feeding. Their owners, who were bivouacking 
behind a ])rojection near at hand, were from Rukyok, and 
had lost manv of their sheep in winter from disease, and 
had been to a warm spring to di]) and save the nmainder. 
We were here alxuit due north of Sakad/.ong and about 
two davs' journev from it. lUit between us and the 
Governor's residence rose a ridge which is a link in the chain 
of Lunpo-gangri. In the evening and at night our watch 
men fired, as Usual, some revolver shots to inform any chance 
roblxTS that we were on our guard. 

April 21. As the tents were being taken down, our 
neighbours went bv with 200 sheep. I turnefl my back to 
them and Imsied 'mvsclf with loading a mule. 'I hen I 
travellefl with the shee]), for there were several more 
tents farther up. and I could not ride till we came to an 
uninhabited part of the valley. Several side valleys 
opened on the left, and at their end-; could sometimes 
])e ^I'en a part of the main crest. We know absolutely 
nothin-' of the countrv to the north of it. but that it canmit 

k' the watershed Ix'tweeii the pialia 

is t-. 1- 

dint. and was shown 

bv the Kamchung transverse valley. 






After cn,s>in- thr river twice over hrulKes of porous 
ice "we encamped near a ^heepfoM where dry dung wa> 
olen ful Th ■ last noma<l> had told us that next day we 
t,uil come to a lar.e tent, the property of - .nfluenUal 
old man named Kaml.a 'IVenam, who owned 1000 \ak> 

"i;v.%.nd if we slippe.1 past him Uk. --"^xy wou d W 
open to us as far a> Ra^^atasam. We are >ati>fiLd XNh n 
i on this <lav. we have a.i^ain yarned near y 9 "I'le. 
Sthl hein. -interfered with hut how sl.a I we Hjre 
to-morrow? -this is the >landiPf^ question ^^e ak our 
elves every evening. It is certainly an a.lvanta^a- to 
avel alon,^ out of the-way paths where we escape not. e 
H if anv sharp ,ova or governor hears us spoken of he 
cannot help be n- suspicious of our stran-c proceedinf,'>, 
^•L^le a clo^e inl.uiry, Now the- >alt canvvan wl.d. 
we passed has already arrived at Saka (l/.ong ue are, 
nle 1 to the east of that place, but w travel so slowly 
hat .'c an never escape pursuit. (^ur excitement grows 
;!;;;lv. I am tlr^ and weary of this -^ ->-P-^f ^^"^ 
mcnt and Ion- for it to come to an end. What shal sst 
do hen? That 1 know not. We have penetrated so 
far hat a cri^s must come. I have managed to ravel 
hrough Bongba. but my plans for the '---l-^^... "^^j^j 
are verv indefinite and depen.l on circumstances. Wc will 

^rvir.^;.:^ r'^^r^hcn we knew th^ the definite 
crisis was c-ming very much nearer. Abdul Kerim, 
Kuichuk, and (^aSar set out first to pay a usit to Kamba 
Tsenam and keep his attention riveted on the sale o 
food an.l horses. We followed after, and crossc.1 the ri cr 
twice on cracking bridges of ce. kept along J^ J^.^ J^ 
hank, and passed a side valley, at the "^-."th of ^^hlch 
stood three tents, where our men were in the "^''l^^^ j^^^^ 
of Tibetans who were showing their horses. Guiana ha 
warn c^ me in time, so I dismounted and went and looke 
ft our last mules. As soon as we were concea le 

i)V a 'ja;:i. Ui:a5.(. 

, , ,. T r-n-'ld rid.- n^'ain. The pleasure did 

not\i^''ionr'f;,r at the' next ;ide\alley on the north I 
had to dismount again before another tent, where a pack 





of savage doj^s 

(lot's were encountered hy Takkar and Little 



who, save the mark, would help to defend us, 
l)Ut received a nip in the ntck and had to Ix' rescued. 
Here we lost Kutus and Tuh^'es, who remained at the 
tent, while our dimini>iu(l party continued on its way 

At a spur on the ncjrthern side of the valley a couple of 
elegant inani heajjs were erected, and by one of them a 
streamer pole was set uj). It had Miowed thickly ever since 
eight o'clock tjut tlie valley wa> >o narrow that we could 
not pass all the tents unseen. Just at the j)rojecting point 
a large valley ran in from the north: we only guessed at it, 
for everything was hidden in the snowstorm. (}ulam 
went a little way ahead and gave me the sign to dismount. 
Immediately in front of the point stood four tents and a small 
stone cahin, where a man stood watching us, and also a chief's 
tent of such huge dimensions that I never saw its like : it 
was as large as a house. Here we left Lobsang and Abdul 
Rasak, and went on eastwards with a much diminished 
I)art\. The chief volume of the Gebukchu comes from the 
northern valley; in our valley, which we knew led to the 
Gebuk la, only a brook was left. We set up our tents on 
the terrace at the mouth of a northern side valley. All the 
country was white, and not a shadow could Ix- seen of the 

Our three tents stood as usual close together, mine 
with its opening up the valley, that is, eastwards. After a 
while the men left k-hind came up and gave their reports 
in turn. They had Iwught provisions for two days, and 
had learned that the district was called Gebuk yung. The 
ne.xt day we should go over the Geljuk-la and encamp at 
the foot of the Kinchen la, from the top of which we should 
see Raga-tasam the following day. Of course it was risky 
for three parties of our men to visit three tents near 
together, for the Tibetans always asked about the routes 
we had followed and our plans, and our men might in their 
haste give discordant answers. In the large tent Lobsang 
had lx?cn cross examined, and had answered that we came 
from the Gcrtse Pun. wh(j had advised us to take this 
byroad because we should reach Raga-tasam two days 




J" »:■ 

sooncT tlKin if we went thn-ii-h Sakad/onK- "Quitr 
true" till TilTtatis aii^uind, 1 ut also wariud us against 
rohlMi-s, for Ihiitr.n I.a.lakis ^^uu\<\ Iv but a mouthlul tor 
an ordinary rotilxr Land, and ihr cuntry \va> viry inwilc. 
"It is wiH'for von that you have i^o.-d weapon^," tluy saul. 

Lastly, Ali'dul K.rini turni<! uj. with his purchases. 
Ilr had'liarmd tiial all th> tmts ue had snn in the- <l;iy 
Indon-'i-d to Kaniha Ts.nam, uho lived himx It in the 
largest, hut he hapixnid to If in Saka dzong, wlure an 
iisscmh'lv had hern convened in antieijiation of an impending 
visit from a hi^h Chiiusr oftuial, and the (|uestion what 
present should l')e made to him had to he decided. Kamha 
Tsenam owned thirty five horns, whiih were grazing 
(lehukla, and if the rich nomad returned in the evening 
we should certainly he abU' to buy some from him. 

"You say,"" declared an elderly man in Kamba Tsenam s 
service, "that you are a tsoi!,i;pUH (merchant) from I,adak. 
Why then do vou travel by this dangerous side route.-' Here 
you' can drivJ no trade. ' How have you found the wav.-' 
'Why have you travelled in winter? Why do you a>k the 
names of the valleys?"' , u.i * 

"I have to write' down all the names," he answered, that 
we may hnd the way again in summer, for I am commissioned 
to make large imrchasts of wool." , , , , f 

"That is well, you shall have sc-veral hundred bales ot 
sheep's wool from lis. 1 will give you a guide in the morn- 
in-'- you will pay him a rupee for two days. Without him 
you' cannot find your way over the Gebuk-la, especially when 
the ground is covered with snow." 

Abdul Kerim had thanked him for his kindness and 
then had come to look for us. We were sitting and 
deliberating when two riders armed with guns came up to 
our tents.' They were close upon us when they appeared 
out of the snowstorm. We just managed to close my tent 
and fasten up Takkar before the entrance. The elder man 
^vas Abdul Kerim's friend from the large tent, the other the 
youth who was olTered to us as a guide. They ticd_ up 
their he)rses and went nonchalantly into Abdul Kerim s 

..,1 f,,- 

iL-nl. Here tnev .-at a;;u ^•.-rij-vw »•-•. ..., , • - • 

a large handseime white' horse for sale at the price ot 


Tk\m iiiN'. l.\i.\ki Ml H. iiNM isWi.r -I'luM. ;;r. ( ) \s.. t ,■, i , -^us 
I. l;.,^,u^, ^\k\ ;;j. l'\Mn..r.iin ^ \k-i x', i K. M> • .i • - 

.\ 1111 I'll KM S h 

1 111^ I'l IM N \M- 1 - 

WllM \N 111 \ L Mil \- 

Sk. li h' - liv til' Auth'.r. 






*i 1 1 u- rim lioiiL'ht it, wlurrupon thry 
asked how nnuh m-.iu > lu hu\ nmim ' • ,^ .. ^.^.^j 
was not afrai.l of ^n^^: attacks • •Yiru. r "^ > ^ 

'^*""^'"" • 1 ,1 .1,.. .iiuition To nfusi- tlir ^uidr 

a f.K.t (Urp, and tlu- path all \m ' I caravan 

covered up, ''^'V*' 'MV;:'";m n;;;' u rl s When 
f„r two days and a ^'s ^ "^ ' "' ^ ,,^. 1,^.. tent 
Kutus an<l S.dik wuU hark »'^»'^.^, ;',,',',,. .^t ..ur 

»^' f^'^^'' ^';"' ;' ^T.r ;.l L " .M remain .luiet 
/,s.«,'/>HH d.<l not want a ^^^J^ .y,,,, ,.„,,;,„„ 


the men answered. .. before the 

w,. 1. ft this dant'erous i Uiei' on April .,s 7'^\'\ '" , , ,,,. ,vas soon overta'xen by 

in radiant sunshine; to the north was a ^^<;^5'^:,^^ ;;• 
i;i-,. K'-l.r took for the main rani^e of the 1 rans iimKuava 

ea.,orn too, of which run. a uvjy -:'V,:,;,:;"'.lc,;;,: «i 

coming innn Die norii;, :- i • '* 



CUM". lAVl 

the valky we followerl last year, and which runs down to 
Hasans, where 1 saw Muhamed Isa for the last time among 
the number of tlie livin,i;. Here was the driver's tent, and 
to e>cai)e hi-, company during,' the nij,'ht we continued our 
march after the stranger had given us instructions about 
the wiv Dur camp 390 was situated in the mouth of a 
Mnall v'ailev on the ascent to the Kinchen la, where we were 
overwhelmed in a terribly dense and violent snowstorm. 

The guide, whf) had so fortunately appeared at the right 
moment ,"^1^1(1 ^aid in the presence of our men that he was 
Kaml)a ' 'T" -nam's brother and a great yak-slayer. The 
year bef' • • e had seen in Saka-fl/.ong a Eun;pean who^e 
caravan ;ee"er, a big strong fellow, had inspired respect 
where r tie showed himself. But he had died suddenly in 
Saka, ,. ' liis comrades had digged a long hole in the ground 
where had laid him. He thought it strange tiiat Ladakis, 

who were of the -ame faith as the Tilx'tans, would travel 
with and serve the 'ated Europeans 

For the future we determined to o])scrve yet greater caution. 
Two or three Ladalus should always wear dark eye-glasses, 
so that mine might not seem so peculiar. As soon as we 
could buy woollen material all the men should have new clothes, 
so that i in my rags would seem the poorest and meanest 
of the party. 

'J I: ,11 




In these davs our life was dismal and lonesome, and our 
future uncertain. We went as in the dark, feelint,' with 
our hands lot we should fall. Every day which passed 
without any untoward event came ujion me as a complete 
surprise. \\'e had now only two days' journey to Rapa- 
tasam on the great highway, where caravans and trawllers 
fare to and fro, and Government officials are responsible 
that no unauthorized person slips past. I was thoroughly 
sick of my disguise and the constant uncertainty, and longed 
for a cri'^is to free me from my emljarrassment. But to 
deliver ourselves, of our own free will, into the hands of 
the Tibetans was out of the question. They must detect 
us themselves, and till then the strain on our nerves must 

April 24 — the anniversary of the Vci^a's return to Stock- 
holm in 1880 1 At sunrise the whole country lay under a 
bright wintry shroud of white snow. The thermometer 
had fallen to' 2|°, Ijut when the sun mounted up the horses 
steamed, atid light clouds of vapour rose up from the snow, 
so that we might have Ix'cn riding through a land of sol- 
fataras and fumaroles. Our caravan animals struggled 
bravely up the tough ascent. Of sheep we had only twenty 
left, and two of them were veterans from Lumbur-ringmo- 
tso. Twice we thought that the pass. Kinchen-la, was just 
lx:fore us, but new heights rose farther })ack, and we 
worked our way up hills, among which brooks run down 
towards Basang and Saka dzong, where Muhamed Isa 
sleeps in his mound. To the south-west (Jhomo-uchong's 








Mimmits i)rt-srntt(I a <,'ranfl >i,L,'ht. At kn,t,'th \vc marlc the 
last ascent uj) to the top of the pas^, where the hei<,^ht is 17.851 
feet al>ove sea level. At the other sirle a river runs north- 
cast, one of the hea(l\vater> of the Ra.u'a-tsan^po. To the 
west thLTe i- a hrilliant r^])eetaele, the summits of Lunpo- 
^ani^'ri ri-inL; in sharp and sa\a^e i;eauty from a maze of 
mountain^ and ridges, which shine in li,<,ditir bluer shades 
the more remote they are. To the north east we catch a 
f;lim])se of an outtyinn ridge covered from foot to cre>l with 
new-fallen snow. The broad flat valley of the Ra<jatsan<rpo 
stretches ea>lwards as far as the eye can .see. In the far 
di>tance to tlie ia>t south-east a grand snowy crest shines 
forth, the northernmost of the Himalayan system (Illustra- 
tion 1Q9). 

We stayed a long time at the top. and I sketched a 
pr.norama. Then we followed the track of the caravan 
over the lower >lioulder^ of two m(>untains, and found our 
camp i)itched in a valley with good grass and a brook par- 
tially frozen. My tent looked towards its bank, and all 
three siood as usual in a line. Tin's day al-o hid passed 
satisfactorily, but ail would l>e different next day, for then 
we should come to Raga tasam, where we encamped last 
year and stayed a week. Camp 391 was, then, the last 
where we could still feel at ease, for we had seen no living 
Ixing all day long, and had no neighlxjurs. ilcrc, then, 
we must arrange some fresh safeguards. 

We must sort out from our aln ady scanty baggage all 
articles that might e.xcite suspicion, as. for example, the 
small padded leather box in which the theodv)lite was 
packed; for the future it would be rolled with its inner 
wooden case in my bed. Further, the hypsomcter's 
leather case and the actinometer, which prol)ably would 
never be usi'd again. Whatever was combusliljle was to 
be thrown into the fire and the rest buried. A couple of 
rugs of camel's wool were also to be discarded. 

To iKgin with, we must make a change in our housing 
arrangements. I was to sleep for the last time in my old 
weather-beaten tent, wh Tc our chief. Abdul Kerim, was 
|-,;vr,pj.r(-,»-t]-, ♦/, ^;j.t iiT\ ]-\\^, pji"-fj'rc ;ip.d recep.'e LTuests. For 

me a compartment of about 2 square yards, not larger 


' ' 1 

•; ; (. Tiiii 1 w- \\\i\[ \ \k^. 

lLll_y^^'^ ^(.^r.^ v; 


lloKl 111 I M IN ,,N nil M \l(. II. 




th;m inv bed, wa^- nartitiuiuil off in Abdul Kirim's tent. 
This (rill. \\lii(h, wu'ii the camp was set uji, \va> eiielo^ed 
)n all sides. \va> henceforth to b( my prison lell. It was 
like a secret drawer in a bureau, and when it was ready I 
inspected it and found it somewhat narniw Init ((imfortal)le. 

Suen was my hairdre»er. ami he had ju>t (ompleti'd his 
bu-iness when Abdul Kerim looked in at tlu' tint (ijienini^ and 
whis[)ere<l that four nun with yaks were cominL,^ u[) the valley 
on the road we had ti) ^'o down from the Kinclu'n la. I 
hurriedly set my dist^'uise in order ami wound the turban 
round my head, while the tla]) was fastened, and Takkar 
was tied uj) before my tent. Then I looked thniui^di the 
peei)hole in the tent canvas on the side towards tlu' ui)i)er end 
of the valley, and saw eit^ht men on foot in dark blue and red 
dresses, witli red scarves round their heads, all armed with .nuns 
and swords, and leading nine horses; one man led two laden 
horses. What in the world did this mean? They nere not 
robbers, for they come suddenly and at nij^ht. They seemed 
rather men in (Jovernment service; the two in front were cer- 
tainly ofl'icials. My men occupied themselves at their fire; 
I could see that they were a prey to the L,'reatest un- 

The .strangers came straii^'ht to our cam])-fire as if it 
were the end of their journey. Tliey formed a circle 
round Abdul Kerim, Lobsanj^, Kutus, and (lulim, and 
began an animated but .subdued conversation. Three of 
them, evidently servants, led the horses to a s])ot barely thirty 
paces from my tent and rii^^ht in front of it. Tliere they 
to(jk oil all the saddles and loads, sent off the to graze, 
brought out pots and cans, arranged three stones in order, 
collected fuel, made a fire, fetched water in a large pot, and 
cooked tea. It was plain that they intended to camp here 
for the night, and that they had intruded on us for the pur- 
pose of watching us. 

The other five entered .Mxlul Kerim's tent, threw 
themselves down, and continued the conversation in the 
same low (|uiet voice and in thoroughly polite and measured 
tones. I could not catch what they said, but that the affair 
was serious I could c^-nlv to.'>. ohdnly pcrjeive, ffir T he.'ird 
my name mentioned — Hedin Sahib. After a good hour's 






' Jv 

ronvcrsition they went out :i<,'ain and made a tour round 
niv tent, but the furious Takkar would not l-'t thcin 
approach the door. But ihi'V (Hscowu'd the peephole in 
the side of the tent, and a man put liis fin.ucr in and looked 
throuf^di the hole, but I was lyin.t,' af,'ainst the folds of the 
tent on the same side, so he could not see me. 'I'lu'n they went 
and threw themselves down in a circle rouml the fire, brought 
out their wcjoden cups, and drank tea. They sat ri^ht in front 
of the entrance to my tent, and I could not t,'et cjut withcnit 
bein^ seen. 

Then Abdul Kerim whisi)ered from the back of my 
tent and inside his own, and told me what the men had .said. 
The leader, a .stoutish yount; man of good appearance,^ had 
put the usual (juestions and received the usual answers. I'hen 
he Had uttered the following words in a serious and decided 

tone : 

•'News of vour arrival has come to the (iovernor of 
Saka-d/.ong through two salt caravans which passed your 
party above Pasa-guk. As it has never occurred that a 
merchant fr .m Ladak has come from the north and has 
travelled on the byway through (iebuk, the (Governor and 
the other authorities in Saka .susi)ecled that Iledin Sahib 
might be concealed among you, and the more so because 
he^himself exjiressed his wish last year tc) come back again 
and travel through the mountainous regions in the north. 
Therefor" my comrades and I received orders to follow 
vour trail, overtake you, and subject you to the mcjst 
searching examination. We are in no hurry, and in_ the 
morning we shall get several yak-loads of provisions. 
You protest that Hedin Sahib is not among you disguised 
as a Ladiiki. Well, it may be that you are telling the 
truth. But remember. tsoiigpiiH, that we shall carry 
out our orders to the letter. You are tlurteen men from 
Ladak, vou sav, and I can see only ten. Wliere are the 

"Thev are out collecting fuel." 

"Good. When you aie all assembled here we intend 
to search you down to the skin. Then we shall turn out 
all your baggage and empty every sack we luul in )uur lents. 
And if in this examination wj tmd nothing belonging to 


Ai'KIL .'4 


a Kiiropcan, it will remain for you to ^ivo a writtrn (lotlara- 
lion that no Kuropcan is among your i)arty concealed or 
disguised, and under tliis deilaration you must set your name- 
stamp. Then you ran travel early in the morning where you 
like, and we shall return to Saka." 

When I heard this report the situation became cjuite 
clear to me, and I at once decided what I would do. Hut I crept by the secret way into the caravan leader's 
tent, where I found myself surrounded by my retainers, 
except three, who were to warn us if the Tibetans came 
back again. 

"What is to be done?" I a.sked Alxlul Kerim. 

"The Sahib knows best him.self. .■Xs far as I can see. 
our condition is hopeless," answered the honest man, who 
had got us out of many a scrape before. 

"What does Lobsang think?" 

"It would not be wise to give them .such a declaration,'' 
he answered with a very troubled face. 

"Sahib," suggested Kutus, "if they give us breathing- 
time 'ill night, the Sahib and I can hide among the 
mountains as at the time when we were close to Tsongpun 
Tashi. When the search is over we can rejoin the caravan 
farther down. I can carry tne Sahib's papers, and other 
European articles can be buried in the ground under the 

"They know that we are thirteen," remarked Gulam. 

Under the force of circumstances we had made our 
way right across Tibet with a trumped-up story, but to let 
Abdul Kerim confirm a false document with his name- 
stamp on my account was a little too strong even for ly 
geographical conscience. I could not consent to that. 
Whatever might happen, f)ur po.sition was still a strong 
one. We were in the heart of Tibet. The next move 
would be that we should be sent out of the country, and 
by whatever way we were obliged to go, I sh(juld certainly 
gain something more. I would a1)solutely refuse to go to 
Ladak, but I would be content to g(j to India through Nepal, 
or, b-ctter still, through Gyangtsc. 

"Xo," I said to my men as I rose up, "I shall give myself 
up to the Tibetans." 





'I'hcn they witc all amazed, and Iic^mh to cry and ^i>\) 
like ( liildnn. 

"Why do you wccpi'" i a-krd. 

"W'f >!iall part licrc t'or ;,'ood, and the Saliih will he killed," 
they ans\vere(|. 

'"Oh no, it is not so bad as that," I said, for it was not 
the {]]■>[ time I had lieen fau.!,'ht hv Tibetans. 

When I walked out of tlu' tenl I heard behind me the 
murmur of Mohammedan prayers: "Allahu ekber — His- 
miilah rahman errahim." 

In my u>ual di-^L^uist' from to]) to toe. and with my face 
painted l)la( k. I walked with slow, deliberate stejjs straight 
to the circle of Tibetans. When I was close to them they 
all ro>e up. as if tlu'y knew that I was no ordinarv Ladaki. 

"Sit down," I said, with a dignified gesture of invita- 
tion, and sat down my-rlf between the two principal men. 
In the one on my riu'lu hand I nco^ni/eil at once the 
Pcmba Tserin<f of the year bef.n-e. I clai)])e(l him on 
the shoulder, sayinLi, ''I->o vou know me auain, Pemba 
Tserint,'?" He answered lot a word, but looked with 
wide-oi)ened eyes at his comradi's, and nodded towards me, 
as much as to say, "It is he." They were mi,t,fhlily dumb- 
founded and disconcerted: no one spoke, some looked at 
one another, others j.,'a/ed into tlu' lire, one threw a couple 
of sticks amon.i^^ the ,^tones, and another took small sijjs oi 

Then I spoke aj^'ain: "Ves, truly, Pemba T.sering, 
you are (|uite riijht ; I am Iledin Sahib, who visited Saka- 
dzont; last year. Here you have me attain; what do you 
mean to do with me?" 

Abdul Kerim, Lobsant:;, and Kutus stood behind, 
trembling like as[ien leaves, and ex])ccting that preparation.s 
for an execution would be the ne.xt move. 

Still they made no answer, l)Ut bej^an to whisper 
together in groups. The younger otlicial, who was 
evidently the cock of the walk, for the others looked at him 
and waited for him to sju-ak. Ixgan to look through 

I ' 1*11 I'll 1 • •! 

ills jiajicrs, aini j>icKCu oiu (mi wnicii nc rcau in .siicnci . 
.\s they \\\rv so long in recovering from thi'ir consternation 
— for thty had not exjiected to get hold of me so ea.sily — 









1 sent Kutus fo*- II lx)\ of Ktryptiaii ci^^art'tti's, and ontn-tl 
tin-Ill all rnuiid. Mai h took oiu' with thanks, and lii^'htoi 
it alter I had sit an cxanii)!!' and sliowi'd thtin that tin- iiK'tr- 
ctti'S were not lillrd with ;,'un|)owdi r. 'i'hcn the i(r was 
lirokiti, and tho li'.idcr In-.^an to .inak very soltly and with- 
out lookini,' at ine. 

"Wstirday strict ordrrs canu' from the Dfva^hun^; 
tliat the (jovernor of Saka would Ix- held re>])on-il)le for 
Kur()|)eans who mi,i,'!it sneak into the country from the 
west, and if any Kuropean showed himself he must he 
immediately forced to return by thi- way he came. When 
the rei)ort reached Saka of a caravan two days' journey 
oiT, the (iovernor suspected that it mii^'ht Ix- you, Hedin 
Sahib, and we have now accomplishid our task. In the 
(lovernor's name we forbid you to take anotiUT step 
eastwards. We bej,' you to conform in all thin,t,'s to our 
directions; our heads and your personal safety are at 
stake. To-morrow you will follow us over the Kinchcndu 
to Saka-d/.oii^." 

"I said last year that I must and would see the 
mountain region north of Saka. Xow I havi- seen it, and 
y(ju have not been able U) prevent me. Vou see then that 
I can do more in vour country tlian your.selves. Xow I 
intend to travel back U) India, but by which way only Lien 
Darin, .\mban of Lhasa, shall decide. It is therefore my 
intention to write to him, and 1 shall n<jt j^o anywhere before 
his answer comes." 

"Wc do not wish you to travel by any other way than the 
one you choose, but we have no authority t(j forward a letter 
to; the Governor will decide the (|uestion himself. 
It is with him you must treat; you must meet personally. 
Therefore we will accompany you to-morrow to Saka- 

"Xo, sir, anywhere else you please, but not to Saka- 
dzong. You know that my caravan leader died and lies 
buried there. It is against my jmnciples to visit a place 
where I have buried a faithful servant. You shall never 
get me to Saka-dzong even if you all Tibet." 

■"If it would trouble _\ou U) .see agam, we 
will certainly not urge you to go thither. Will you instead 






liavi' the kindness to fullow ti, to SciiKiku Iiv the Ts;in^(», 
on till' IdsiiDi, \vlii( li i.-, only two days' journt-v to tlic soutli 
west.'' I will then write to the (ioveruor and ask him to 
mci't you there." 

"(io'xi; I will fdllow you to Semoku to-morrow" 

"I hanks; 1 will at ont e send an txpress niesscn^cr to 
inform the (loxcrno'-, so that you may not have to wait at 
Semoku. Hut tell me why you ha\c (ome hack aj,'ain. 
\'ou travel and travil in Tihet and you are always sent awav, 
hut always come hack aj^ain. Had you not enough 
last yi'ar, when you were ohli^ed to leave the country 
by the road to l.adaki' .\nd now you turn up aj.;ain 
amon^,' us. How is that possible, and why are vou 

" ikrause I love your country and your friendly people 
to su( h a decree that I cannot live widiout them." 

"H'm! It is very kind of you to say so. but would it not 
be better if you were to love your own country a little more? 
As \imtr as we do not travel in your country, you should not 
travel in ours; we remain at home, and the best thinj^ you 
can do is to remain in your (ountry." 

"As long as I can sit in a saddle I shall come back. Vou 
can inform the Devashung at your leisure that their Excellen- 
cies may look for more visits." 

They lau;,'Iied i)lea.santly. and ' joked at one another, as 
much as to say: "If he likes to come back, he is welcome 
as far as we are concerned." And my Ladakis laughed 
and were extremely a.stonished that our last day of freedom 
had come to so peaceful ancl merry an ending. The 
Tibetans were exceedingly agreealjle. polite, and gentle, 
and never uttered a hard or peevish W(;rd aijout the trouble 
that I had again brought upon them. And wlien tiie old 
wool story, which Alxlul Kerim a little while before had 
tried to cram down their throats, was referred to, they 
laughed heartily and thought that it was a grand device. 
They are so accustomed to lie them.selves that tliey have a 
great admiration for any one else who succeeds in deceiving 
them. They thought it very wonderful that we had been 
Uijie lu civ/ss ti;e Wiiuic cuuiury v. unoui licicction, and 
believefl that I must possess some mysterious powers of 



! it 

t = 








which they knew nothiri}:;, and that they must be very 
cautious in dealing with me. 

The 3'oung official, who was named Rinchc Dorchc, but 
was called Rindor, a contraction of the two names, wrote a 
long letter to the Governor of Saka, saying that I was the 
same Hedin Sahib who had been here the year before, that 
we had come to a friendly agreement to proceed t(i Semoku, 
that I did not wish to travel to Ladak but straight to India, 
and that Lien Darin alone was to decide on the route. The 
letter was sealed, and despatched by a mounted courier over 
the Kinchen-la. 

Then we talked and jested again, and before sunset we 
were as intimate as though we had been friends from child- 
hood. We might have made an ai)i)ointment to meet in 
this barren valley and been glad to have found one another. 
It was easy to understand that the Tibetans were pleased. 
They little thought when the sun rose that they would make 
such a good catch before evening. The successful issue 
of their mission would be of great advantage; they would 
be commended by the Governor and gain promotion. 
For my part I had a feeling of unmixed satisfaction. Our 
freedom was at an end, but for me it had been nothing but 
an exceedingly enervating captivity. Now, for the first 
time, I felt perfectly free, and was no longer a prisoner in 
my own tent; I should have no need of that wretched 
hiding-hole in Abdul Kerim's tent. The Tibetans laughed 
loudly at my ragged, smutty, greasy dress of coar.«? grey 
sackcloth, in which I looked like a convict, or. at besi, like 
a begging monk of the Grey Friars' confraternity. Then 
they understood how I had succeeded in crossing Bongba 
unseen and unknown. How delightful it would be to 
throw my rags into the fire and clothe myself in a clean neat 
Tibetan costume, to be no longer obliged to hide my 
pa])ers and instruments in rice sacks, and not to have to 
paint my face black as a Moor's instead of washing myself. 
As soon as we had parted from our new friends in the 
evening, Gulam took a hand-basin of warm water into my 
tent, and then I had a good scrubbing from top to toe, and 
the water showed that I wanted it. He had to change the 
water lour times before I was tolerably clean. Then I 

>i-..» s:*C'i 

- ■ •"<■ ,t ■ 


Jr:'?-«; i'\#.- 

-TP-i- <--<ft-' 


>t ,-s.^. 

;■' - '-o-^. 

i i 




dipped my Mohammfdan Ix'ard to tlio skin, and sadly 
missed the razors I had thrown away. IJut I was ,ti;la(l that 
we had ncjt burned the thin,i^> we liad condemned some hours 

Rindor be.^t^ed the loan of one of our tents, as their own 
transport train was not e.xpected till the mornini,'. Besides 

Pemba Tserin''. 

there were two other men 1 iuid known 

the year before. They were all very friendly, and .said that 
we had tipi)ed them very .generously. There was also 
u wrinkled old man in the party, who was always smokint^' 
a Chinese pipe. His name w;;s Kamba Tsenam. and it 
was his tent near which we had so nearly been detained two 
(lavs before. 

'Thus ended Aj)ril 24. 190^- Stran.i^e, melancholy 
thou,^tns took i)ossession of me whin I went to bed. The 
TibeUins had again thwarted my plans — I know not how 
many times they had done so. Our future was dark as 
ever, but it had arrived at a new staj^'e, and on the 25th we 
should wake up to l)et^in a new chapter. The dec j) silence 
in the vallev was only disturbed occasionally by Takkar, 
when the faithful dog barked at the Tibetans. His bark 
was re-echoed from both ilanks as three do<,rs kej)! 
guard over us. And the everlasting stars glittered as before 
over our lonelv tents. 




Ox April 25 v.c rode in a compact body to tlic mouth of a 
valley cast of Chomo-uchon^', called Raflak. Six Tibetans 
tjuarded me on 1x)th side>. and our journey had some 
resemblance to a convict train. Now I was not oblif,'ed to 
dismount before we passed a tent. On the left hand was 
a lar^e open i)Iain where Raga-tasam is situated. A shot 
was heard in *he deserted country, and Kindor sent two 
men to see what it was. An antelope hunter! He was 
arrested and beaten; for the (iovernment. at ecclesiastical 
instigation, had forbidden the extinction of life for three 
years, exce|)t in the case of sheep and yaks. I was reminded 
of the agreement to forbid Europeans to travel in Tibet for 
three vears. 

Now I drew my map of the route, took compass bearings, 
and sketched a panorama c|uite at my ease. The Tibetans 
wondered at me and (jucstioned me. but did not trouble 
themsehes much alxnit my work. .\nd I had plenty of 
time to think of the line of policy I should adopt during 
the following negotiations. I knew that they would urge 
me to return by the way I had come, through Bongba, or 
by the road I had taken "to Ladak the year before. For 
niy part, I had now had enough of Tib' and I longed to 
get home, and wished to avoid routes that involved loss of 
time and that I knew already. Xow T only wished to 
travel to India via Shigatse and Oyangtse, and I would 
try to obtain ijermi>--ion to travel to these towns by roads 
where no one had Ixcn before, .\fter the excitement in 
which we had lived so long came a reaction. I was worn- 

vo: . II 353 = ^ 






i I 




I 'if 

^ .^Ih 

out, weary, and indifTcrcnt to everything except the nearest 
way home. Therefore I sat down and wrote a letter of 
fifteen paj^'es to iJen Darin, referred to his friendly letter 
sent to (jartok, gave an account of our last journey, pointed 
out to him that no Great Power could take it amiss if I 
travelled out of the country through (iyangtse, promised 
that in return I would give him information al:K)Ut the 
occurrences of gold and salt I had seen, and about the 
measures which should Ix- taken for the promotion of 
sheep-breeding, — all natural resources, which would con- 
tribute to the advancement of China's newest province, 
Tibet. And I concluded my letter with wishes for the 
happiness and prosperity of Lien Darin himself and peace to 
his forefathers' graves. 

I did not doubt a moment that he would give his con- 
sent to such a modest retjuest, and I saw in my mind's eye 
the dramatic scene when I should make my first call on 
Major O'Connor in Tibetan dress, and have a little fun 
with him before I made myself known. But I may as well 
say at once that this long ei)istle to Lien Darin was never 
sent. My opponent's tactics lured me to a contest in 
which he was checkmated in two moves. My merit was 
as little now as formerly; I was always a marionette, and 
the hands which held the strings hung over the paths 
where the clouds and stars move. 

In the evening I had a visit from Pcmba Tsering and 
Kamba Tsenam. The former was much more gentle and 
friendly than the year before ; the latter was a great 
humorist, who did not seem at all annoyed that he had 
omitted to close the bag when he had us in it, and had let 
a valuable booty fall into the hands of another. They had 
heard of my adventurous voyages on Tso-mavang, and were 
astonished that I had escaped with my life. 

Two short days' marches took us over the pass Kule- 
la and down to the valley where Semoku stands on the 
great high-road. Here stood some scattered tents, and the 
Governor and his colleagues had established themselves in 
the small stone house of the station. All the more im- 
l>oiUini p()>l^ ill Tibet are eiilrusled to Iwii gentlemen, 
thus, for example, there are always two garpuns or viceroys 

;il. I\M K CiM ki 111 M 1 ll'LK. 

; ,,., I I. .Kl III I -I 1 S \Sli \i. W \M. 1 IN III .K-^l r. \< k. 

^^^^'^^■m^^^ "^^^. :.^w^:'''''mm.-j^^^-^^m-^^ 




in Gartok, a system adopt.,! with the intention that one 
shall control the other or >liall inform of the other if he is 
guilty of any roguery. In Saka-d/.ong. however, the one 
governor seemed to be of higher rank than the other: at 
any rate, he conducted all the negotiations as though he 
possessed greater authority. 

As soon as we were ready Rindor and two other men 
came into my tent and brought a nies>age from the 
Governor that he awaited me in the station-house. I 
answered, that if he wanted anything of me he might come 
to my tent. It was not long before a party of men crossed 
the hundred yards Ix'tween our dwellings. I went out to 
meet them, invited them to come in and sit down as far as 
the space allowed, took up my position on my bed, and had 
before me three gentlemen, namely, Dorche Tsuen, pun or 
Governor of Saka-dzong (Illustration 327), Xgavang, his 
colleague, and Gang Gyc, his eighteen-year-old son (Illus- 
tration 331). A crowd of servants, nomads, and soldiers 
crowded together at the tent door. 

Pun Dorche Tsuen is an unusually tall Tilx-tan, forty- 
three years old, of sympathetic and refined appearance, 
dressed in a Chinese costume of silk, with a small silk cap on 
his head, a pigtail behind, and velvet boots. He is a man 
of wealth, owning large Hocks in the ])rovince over which 
he rules and a stone house- in Lhasa, his home, for he is an 
upa or domiciled inhabitant of the province U, the capital 
of which is Lhasa. There dwell three of his four sons, and 
one of them is a young lama. His wife has been dead some 


Ngavang, his coadjutor, is a little, fat. kindly man in 
Tibetan costume, but with a Chinese cap and pigtail. 
Gang Gye wears his hair in Tibetan fashion, wears no 
head-covering, and, like his father, is exceedingly sympathetic 
and good-natured. 

"I hope that you have had a successful journey 
and have not suffered much from cold," said Dorche 


"Oh, it was cold, and wt have lost our caravan, our 

tiotnes are m rags, una uur })roM-5ons .>.^^ ... .... . — , — - 

you see, that is of no consequence to us." 

.; J 



rn \p. 

I 'I 


"At the time of your vi-it to Sakad/ont,' la-t yiar I 
\va> in 'r>onk<i, hut I rcc civt,*! an account of }i)Ur niovi-- 
nirnt>. Vou wltc sint away. Why liavc you come back 


"To vi>it the (listrict> I was then pivvintcd froni 
M■t■in,^^ I am a>hami(l to liavc ^'iwn you the troul^Ie of 
((jminj,' here from Saka-d/on^. I liope that we >liall soon 
come to an a.L^reement aljoul the route 1 am to lake in (jrder 
to leave the country." 

Now I sliould" have to j^lay my cards well. I had 
changed mv mind during' the la>t few days. I had rested, 
the reaction after the excitement of travellinf; in 
had pa^ed away, and I was exceedin-^ly eai^er to attempt 
some new discoveries before I gave > the game. I had, 
it is true, succeeded in making a \ery valuable traverse 
acrovs Hongba, I had travelK'd straight across the word " L'n- 
cxjilored" on the latent Knglish maj) of Tibet — yea. 1 had 
pas>ed between the /> and /. m) that "unexp"' lay on the wot 
side of my route and "lored" on the east (see Ma]) i. Vol. I). 
But I had left (juite untouched {wa extensive stretches of 
the large blank i)atch, and I dreamed of nothing else thaii t<J 
cross Hongija again by two fre>h routes. It would certainly 
take four or five months to return to India after a northerly 
zigzag course, instead of a c()U|>le of weeks if I made for 
British territory through (iyangtse. as I intended at first. 
But if I succeeded in making the northerly detour I should 
carrv home material of pirhaps greater value than the dis- 
coveries already made. Dorche Tsueii answered with lirm 
decision : 

••.\s to vour way back. I will tell you at once: not a 
step further east ; my head dei)ends on it. Here you see 
the order I received a couple of days ago from the 
Devasliung. I will read it to you. Last year you 
travelled without leave to Nepal, to Kubi-gangri, across 
the holy lake, round Kang-rinpoche, and to Jumba matsen. 
I know' exactly where you went. Vou canni_)t do the same 
this year. It is probably in consequence of your journey 
in. ail sorts of forbidden directions that the Devashung 
has distributed through the country instructions regarding 
Kuroi)eans. Two otVicials lune recently been sent from 

I Win 



Lhasa to Shansa-dznni,' to see that no Euroju-an approacht-s 
the holy city from >s'akt>an^. Sonu'timc a,uo a Chinese 
ofhrir with 200 scjldit-rs was moved to Tin.u'ri to j^iiard the 
country from intrusion from the south. Not even a (iurkha 
or a Hindu can now travel in Tilnt without especial per- 
mission. The other day I received a Utter from the 
Chinesi' frontier olTicial in Tin.ijri wliich I will read to you. 
As vou see, he orders me to force any European who may 
come to Saka from the norlli to return in his own footstejjs. 
If he refuses, I have to send otT a messenj^'er to Tinj^'ri, and 
shall receive assistance in a few days from the soldiers 
stationed there. Times are changed in Tilx-t. If you will 
not listen to me and travel back by the way you came, 
I will send a messenger to Tint^^ri. Hut, like you, I hope 
that we shall come to an aj,'reement without unpleasantness 
and outside interference." 

Mv ne.xt move was a feint, namely, to try for the 
Clyan^tsc route; I would in the end conform to his wishes 
and give up the (iyangtse route under the condition that I 
should not be compelled to travel alonj^ roads I knew 
already. I pointed out how near we were to (iyangtse, and 
how easily he would get rid of me if I went thither, but nothing 
made any impression on him. He only answered, "All that 
is true, but the road is closed to you." 

"Well, I will give it up for your sake, but only on con- 
dition that you forward a letter from me to the British 
Trade Agent in Gyangtse. Vou can understand that my 
fam.ily are disturbecl at my long absence and are looking for 
news of me." 

"Ves, I can understand that, but I regret to say that I 
cannot forward your correspondence. All the authorities in 
Tibet are strictlv forbidden to assist a European in anv wav, 
as he has no right to travel in the c(juntry." 

"Vou will perhaps allow two of my rjwn servants to carry 
a letter from me to Gyangtse?" 

"Xo, never !" 

"Well, at least, you can inform the Dcvashung of my 
arrival, and ask the Government to send notice of it to 

"I sent a messenger to the Dcvashung as soon as I 








received the letter from Kindor. They will know in Lhasa 
in a few days that you arc romc here again." 

I had never induced any Tibetan magistrate to forward 
my letters. I'hat I)(jrche T^uen refused to do mc such a 
trilling service had the deplorable consequence that my 
famiiv did not receive any reliable re[)ort of me till Sep- 
tember, and therefore supposed that some misfortune had 
Ix-fallen me. Instead of reaching the fnjntier in a couple 
of weeks, I was sent back again into the silence of Tibet, 
and the waves washed again over our track. Hut I took it 
for granted that news of our arrival on the lasam would 
penetrate to (iyangtse both ofhcially and through rep<jrts, 
and would then Ix' made known everywhere. Such, how- 
ever, was not the case, and after we left the tas, n our fate 
was buried in the same complete silence as bef( e. 

"Xo, Iledin Sahib," Dorche Tsuen cried out, "the 
only way open to you is the one by which you came from 
the' north." 

"I will never travel by that road. It is no use talkmg 

about it." 

"You must." 

"You cannot force me to do so. To begin with, I will 
not let you know which way I came, and I travelled in 

'Tt does not matter. It is very well known that you 
came from the Samye-la and the Kinchen-la. Beyond that 
the escort I shall send with you will ask the way from tent to 


"The nomads will answer that they have seen no 
Ladakis. for fear of being punished." 

"I shall find means of making them confess more than 
you think." 

"You can kill me if you like, but you shall never force 
me to travel over the S'amyc-la. Remember that I am a 
European and a friend of the Tashi Lama. Yov. may lose 
your button." 

Much tlisturbed, Dorche Tsuen conferred in whispers with 


' -T will givcwav so far for your sake that I will allow 
you to return to Ladak by tlie same road you followed 

', i;. '!'hk Ai ni"i.- IS ■^lll^T^\• Dki^--'-. 
lr>.m a jili^d. 'graiih In llii' Ki^. Mr. M.irs, in I'.xj. 




■ t 



• <li 




last year, throuRh Tradum, Tuksum, Shamsang, Parka, and 


That was the very solution I most feared. If there 
were any road in all 'lilxt that I wished to avoid at any cost 
it was the road to Ladak. I answi-rrd : 

"Never! Not a stt]) on the gnat hi),di road to Ladakl" 
"But why? Vou ought to be thankful for -o great a 

"It is forbidilei. Ijy the laws of my country for a man to 
return in his own footsteps. Vou can cut my throat, but you 
will not force me to do anything of the sort." 

"You must have strange laws in your country. May 
I hear which way you really wish to take?" 

"I have already said through (Jyangtse. Vou refused 
and I understand your motive. Vou have urged me to go 
back to the north. Even in this respect I will conform to 
your wishes, but only on the condition that I am not 
obliged to retrace my stei)s. I will go over another pass east 
of the Samye-la and northwards to the Teri-nam-tso and 
then westwards by the shortest way out of Tilx-t." 

"That is not to \>c thought of. But let us take the 
matter quietly. Will you agree to accompany me to 
Kamba Tsen'am's tent, four days' journey from here? 
You have been there already, antl lx;forc wc reach it we shall 
have come to some understanding." 
"Yes, willingly." 

Opposition spurred me on. It now became a point of 
honour to win a new game of chess. My jK)sition was 
very strong. The iasam was eliminated. If I could only 
cross the Trans-Himalaya by a more easterly pass, I 
should by some ruse or other gain the Teri-nam-tso, 
Mendong-gompa, the lower Buptsang-tsangpo, the Tarok- 
tso, Selipuk, and an eighth Trans-Himalayan pass. Yes, 
now I must, if ever, play my cards well. I still felt young 
and strong. The political entanglement which encom- 
passed me on all sides in Tibet rendered it diii'icult for 
me to make geographical discoveries, but it stimulated my 
ambition. Therefore I rememlx^r with particular warmth 
and sympathy all those who, in virtue of their tcmpurary 
power in the world, sought to raise obstacles in my way. 







ll I 

IS <.i 

Wc then talked on various subjects. He wished to 
sec our weapons, antl asked if he could buy a revolver. 
".\o; you shall have it as a j)resent, cartridges and all, if you 
will let me go the way 1 have proposed." 


"\ou must procure us all the provisions wc need for two 
months, besides new shoes, clothing, tobacco, horses, mules, 

" With pleasure; make out a list of all you want." 

It was done at once. Meal, tsumbn, tea, sugar, Japanese 
cigarettes, which were said to be procurable — all was to be 
brought from Tsongka, whither mounted men were sent 
the same day across the Tsangjvo and over the Ncvu-la. 
Everything was to Ix; in our tents in a week. The rest could 
be obtained from Saka-dzoi- ;. In the evening I paid 
an eciually long return visit to my valiant friend Pun 
Dorche I'suen, and at night I consigned my letter to Lien 
Darin to the flames. Ah no! no Chinese interference in 
Tilx'to-Swedish affairs. 

On the 28th we remained (|uiet and visited one another 
l)y the hour together. The two governors sat (jn Ix-nches 
fastened to the wall, Rindor and Oang Gyc on mats on the 
floor, and all four plaved at dice. The two dice were shaken 
in a' wcxiden lx)wl, and turned out on to a round piece 
of skin. The markers were small Indian snailshells. 
Then they ])layed with Chinese dominoes. Meanwhile 
they drank tea,' smoked pipes, sang, joked, laughed, and 
moved the bricks with wonderful and graceful dexterity. 
Xgavang won ten tcut^as and was greatly elated. _ In this 
wav they pass the time when the day's work is done. 
Rindor is the Governor's private secretary, and on a bench 
and a table lav piles of documents and letters, written on 
coarse Chinese' paper, and folded up one on another. The 
Governor's correspondence now comes to Semoku. and his 
daily work must run its course. His province, Saka, is 
very extmsive, and he states with some pride that his 
power stretches to Sangsang in the east, to the Nexoi-la 
in the south, to the Mariunvla in the west, and northwards 

oy..; '(i'.'.rr.OV 

bovond KamVia Tsenam". tent. 

The illustrious' gentlemen were much amused with my 





•'^-— - ' 


t1 H 



U4. 345- Suii'iKks (IK im; (;\kki:.o\ m > \k x-h/um,, hkminmn''. i<> oik K-^.i.Rr. 

;i6.'AR\iri) Tuurvv irom mi Cmmpv luiwns riu: Ti Ri n \\i i-o \smj the 

!!vx..K \--.r%i ; -:. W7- "••■ ■••■' ■■■ -.!.---- I.-- 

Tkri-n WII^i'. 


tHr irff^W" 

' I 






iiSi?^ "'s 







costume. "You arc a Sahib," they said ; -you wye for 
six weeks the j^uest of the Tashi Lama; you employ one 
raravan after another, and leave a .|uantityc)f monev 
beliintl you, and yet are dressed more shal)bily inan any ol 

vour servants." i • . ,i„. 

' \t ni"ht their horses and mules were driven to tit 
station-house bv soldiers, and we ou^ht to have taken the 
same precautioJi, for our horses were attacked by wolves. 
The brown horse we ha<l bought two weeks l)efore for 
,00 rupees had his two ri^ht feet tied to,i^ether lest he 
should run awav, and the wolves directe<l their attack on 
him as he could not escape, ate him up. an(l to()k the 
head olT with them. At any rate it was missing in the 
morninj^ from the skeleton, which was pretty closely 

strip])ed. , 1 1 .1 

On \\n\\ 29 we rode together on the road down the 
Semoku vallev, which runs to the upper Brahmaputra 
(Illustration 3]-,). This we left on the left hand, as we as 
the hisam, and ascended a valley where the little village 
of Ushv with its stone huts and barley tields is situated 
The 150 inhabitants are at home only at seedtime and 
harvest; the rest of the year they are away, tending their 
sheep Thence we i)roceeded the following day to the 
pass Ushv-la. The wav is marked by a succession of mam 
heaps and clihorlais, and the pass by rods so thin as to be 
invisible at a distance, and the streamers they carry look 
like a flock of tied birds. A little farther to the north- 
west we crossed the pass (^,ve-la, where Chomo-uchong 
makes a fine display, and soon after we were on the main 
pass of the same name (16,135 feet). From a hill near 
the eye can sweep over all the horizon, the peaks and 
.'laciei-s of the Himalayas, Chomo-uctiong, and close at 
hand to the south-south-east the Brahmaputra valley with 
the river meandering in several arms. We encamped on 
the bank of the Sachu-tsangp^ which tlows into the 
Chaktak-tsangpo west of Saka-dzong. Here also lies a 
votive block of a hard green rock, covered with oiTerings, bits 
of butter, and streamers. 

THo ,st of Mav was celebra<'-d by a march over the 
Lamlung-la, a difficult pass, oa the saddle of which, 


H-^^r jii'z: 









16,791 feet hi^h, the traveller is apiin rewarded by a 
magnificent view over this comf)licated sea of mountains. 
From here (."homo-uchont^'s seven summits appear in a 
compact t,'rou]); the central one is of a regular conical 
shape and is pure white all over; the others consist chiefly 
of black clitTs and projections, from among which issue 
small blue-tinged glaciers. The length of the massive 
corresponds to that of Lunpo-gangri, of which it is a 

In the Xamchen valley our united camp formed f^uite 
a little village, for all the chiefs of the country were 
conwned to a consultation. And here it was that Rindor 
and Pemba Tsering joined us with all the goods we had 
ordered from S'lka-dzong. We stayed here two days. 
The weather was raw and chilly, and the tem|)crature 
constantly fell to 8.2°. There was no spring as yet. But 
the wild-geese w(.'re on their migrati<jn, and when Tubgcs 
once shot a gander at a neighbouring brook. Gang Gye 
came to complain to me. lie was quite overcome at this 
bruial murder, and coukl not conceive how my servant could 
be so heartless and cruel. 

"Vou are right," I answered; "lam myself sorry for 
the wild-geese. But you must remember that we are 
travellers, and dei)enilent for our livelihood on what the 
country yields. Often the chase and fishing are our only 

"In this district you have plenty of sheep." 

" Is it not just as wrong to kill sheep and eat their 

"Xo!" he exclaimed, with passionate decision; "that 
is cjuite another matter. Vou surely will not compare 
sheep 'o wild-geese. There is as much dilTerence Ix'tween 
them as between sheep and human beings. For, like 
human beings, the wild-geese marry and have families. 
.And if you sever such a union by a thoughtless shot, you 
cause sorrow and misery. The goose which has just been 
bereaved of her mate will seek him fruitlessly by day and 
night, and will never leave the place where he has been 

! 1 1 -..H Ut- 2 C U . 

IT,.- i:r Ml K,. , . 

1 ••,' 

1 f-rl- — 1 -l-.. 

will never enter upon a new union, but will remain a 






widow, and will soon die of grief. A woman cannot mourn 
more deeply than she will, and the man who has caused such 
sorrow draws down a punishment on himself." 

The excellent Gang Gye was quite inconsolable. We 
might shoot antelopes, wild' sheep, and partridges as much 
as ever, if onlv we left the wild-geese in peace. I had 
heard in the Lob country similar tales of the sorrow of the 
swans when their union' was dissolved by death. It was 
moving to witness Gang Gve's tenderness and great 
sympathy for the wild-geese, and I felt the deepest respect 
for him.' Many a noble and sensitive heart beats in the cold 
and desolate va -s of Tilx-t. 


i I 

'I I 



At the Xamohcn camp wc lx)usht a large supply of rice, 
meal, barlev. and tsamlni, sugar, stearin candles, soap, and 
five hundred cigarettes. - all procured from Isongka. A 
rich merchant, Xgutu. who owned fifty horses and mules 
and two hundred vaks, s.ld us two mules and a horse 
bcM<les cloth for new garments, boots, and caps. .\l)dul 
K'-rim hastened to make me a Tibetan costume of fme 
Lhasa cloth; on mv head I wore a Chinese silk cap 
swathed with a red turban; I stalked alx^ut in silk Chinese 
boots, and had an elegant sword in my gird e. _ In my 
Ladaki saddle with its variegated fittings, and riding a 
milk-white stallion. I looked in this makeshift outfit quite like 
a Tibetan of rank (Illustration 343)- , . ^ , ^, 

Here a large meeting was held in Dorchc Isuens 

tent where the question of my return route was disc ussed. 

Dorche Tsuen insisted on the necessity of my crossing 

the Samve-la again, and 1 answered, as before, tha 1 

intended 'to take no other way than over a pass cast of the 

Samvc-la. Then he appealed to the nomads at hand, who 

no doubt had received their instructions beforehand, anc 

thev all afllrmed that the Chang-tang could be reached 

by "no other pass than the Samye-la. Ilowever, we had 

heard from tne horse-driver on the Gebuk-la that a way 

led ..ver the mountains directly north of Kamba Isenams 

tent Hut then the nomads, who would have to let us yak^ 

„n hire, replie.l that the road was so ba<l that we could 

not reach the 'larok-tso in three inuntns. and Inat, lyT 

their iKirt, they would not let their yaks go, and come to griet 


• ^1 



;4^. 'Ikim.i'I k I'l 1 III i,v, 

IIH'MKRli ilF Ho> 

\S "h '!> kl-N \\\- 

SL..1, I,... 1., 



*-z^ - * " , " ■ ■ Tr ■ ■ - ■ iv 


'■^mik w: m^^^ 

I i 

I • 







(,n the detritus of the pass. Then wc offered to buy 
\;iks, but found no one who would sell his animals, .\fter 
Dorche Tsuen had informed me that those wh(. travelled 
from Saka into Bon^ba with hired yaks had to ehan>,'e 
lK)th men and pack animals at Buj-to on the ujjper 
Buptsang-tsangpo, I propos«.-d to divide my caravan mto 
two sections, one of which, under Alxlul Kerim, would 
cross the Samye-la, while I with the other half marched 
over the eastern pass; we would meet on the lower course 
of the Buptsang-tsangpo. Ngutu, a genial old man()f 
Mongolian origin, su])ported me. giving it as his opmion 
that it was of no consecjuence which pass I crossed myself, 
i)rovided that the main part of the caravan went over the 
Samye-la; but Dorche Tsuen was still obstinate, and tried 
to frighten me with a tale of ten well-armed rf)blx-rs whose 
haunts were in the country north of the mountain I wished 
to pass over. 

"If the country is unsafe," I returned, "i^^^is your 
duty to provide me with an escort of ten sokliers." 

"The soldiers Ixlong to the garrison of Saka-dzong, and 
cannot Ix- employed elsewhere." 

"Listen to me, Dorche Tsuen. and do not be so short- 
sighted. If you give me ten soldiers, you will be able to 
control mv 'movements. I will pay them 2 rujK'es a 
man j)er dav for their services, that is, 20 rupees a day 
altogether. You can well Ixlieve that I cannot afford 
such a great expense for a long time, and therefore you 
will have a guarantee that I shall not take a long round - 
alxjut way. When I have rejoined Aklul Kerim's party I 
shall be beyond the limits of your province, and the escort 
can return." 

"That is true," exclaimed two voices in the crowd; 
"if he pays 20 rupees a day, he cannot go far." 

Dorche Tsuen rose and called some of the other men 
to a consultation outside the tent, and when he came back 
again he said that I might have my wish, if I would sign a 
written declaration that I took upon myself all responsi- 
bilitv for the consequences, for he wished to be free from 
blarne if any misfortune K-fell me. Of course I promised 
to sign such a documt nt with pleasure. 

t''VtV'.>ijClI'iv''.% vt*-#' . 











Thus thf matk-r was arrangid. Xima Tashi (Illus- 
tration ,^53), a powerful man of pleasant asiRCt, and 
(IrcssLMJ in a loose sheepskin, was to Ix' thief of the 
IxHlyKuani, and a> he said he did not know the road to 
the 'north, I'anchor f Illustration 332), a man fifty five years 
of age, was ordered to act as guide. He was called into 
the tent. I had not seen him Ufore, but Abdul Kerim 
said that he was the same man who on April 23 had shown 
us the way to the foot of the Kinchen-la, and that he had 
seen me and Muhamed Isa last year in Saka-dzong. He 
was a little, thin, wiry man who had killed eighty yaki, 
with the gun he always carried. To everything that was 
said to him he agreed submissively with "La lasso, la lasso." 
We could see that he was sly and knavish — just t^ stuff 

wc wanted. 

With him and all the other company we rode on May 4 
over the pass Gara-la, and from its rather flat threshold 
saw Kamba Tsenam's tent still in the same place. Here 
we crossetl, then, our route of A[)ril 22, and had made a loop 
round the snowy massive Chomo uchong. 

Panchor was the elder brother of Kamba Tsenam, and 
it struck me as curious that when the Governor of Saka 
pitched his tent Ix'side that of the wealthy nomad, the 
latter did not come out to welcome him. Now a collection 
of tents had sprung up in the valley larger than at any 
of the foregoing camjis. Couriers and messengers came 
and went, small yak caravans came up to the tents with pro- 
visions for the o'flicials, and nomads had come in from the 
neighVx)urhood to have a look at the eccentric European who 
had come down like a bomb into the country and had been 
caught at last. 

Late in the evening Kamba Tsenam came sneaking 
into my tent. He was very mysterious, and said that the 
Governor and his people had no notion that he was paying 
me a visit in the darkness. He wished only to say that 
Panchor could very well contrive that I should go almost 
anywhere I liked.' The escort had strict orders from the 
authorities, but only Panchor knew the way, and could 
easilv throw dust into the eyes of ihe other men. I 
only' to make my wishes known to Panchor and he would 

. t,' 

;, (,1 i -1- M Mil I MM \l\'. ■.! M-. Tl M "N I HI H \NK. ..I Mil 'I I Kl N Wl 

( n, ■ Ih ..prM 4 ,1 |.:ai I i- -li< I 111 I ■■ .1 I'- "■ <!■' ' '- '' ''"■ ■"" ' 

Tm V\K^ ImiP1>1\(. TllK Rl\fR S. M \-TS\M.i-n. 

:fif, - 



I I 






\k- governor of Saka. 

and he himself was a 

There vvas not a man 

manage the rest. If also a band of fifty roblK-rs swept 
,l,,\vn on us like a whirlwind, they would disj)cTsc like 
>lRel) as soon as they knew that I'anehor with his never^ 
l.iiling gun was with us. Kamla Tsenam thus revealetl 
hiin^elt as a cunning rogue, who had not the slightest 
re>|)eit for the authorities of Saka. The old fiK)l promised 
that 1 should travel by the roads I \\i>he«l if, in return, 
I would contrive that he should 
What he said was only idle talk, 
fellow to \k on our guard against, 
in Hongba who had evir heard of him, and his great power 
c.xisted only in his own imagination. In his own village 
he was kmnvn and flattered on account of his great wealth, 
and he boasted that no robUr dared to touch his flocks, 
for he was their trusted friend. "I am the father of all the 
roblxrs," he said m<Klestly. 

I willingly accepted his invitation to visit his tent next 
morning. When I had passed it the first time it was in a 
snowstorm, and I had looked ui)on it as a serious menace 
to my jjlans and my freedom. Almost like a thief in the 
night, expecting to be discovered every moment, I had 
stolen past the black nomad dwelling. Now I approached it 
as an honoured guest, only barked at by dogs. 

The huge tent, made of a number of pieces of material, 
is supported by three veritable masts, firmly fixed in the 
ground. A stone wall runs along the inner side, and in 
front of it are heaps of tsiimba, rice, and corn sacks. 
Baskets and boxes stand full of clothing. The altar, a 
wooden shelf, and a table arc laden with f^aos, images, 
votive bowls, praying mills, and holy Ixxjks. In one corner 
stand perhaps a dozen guns with streamers on their rests, 
and in another as many swords. On the hearth, built on 
the left of the entrance, always stands a large tea-kettle 
boiling, ready for any guests that may come in. A battery 
(,f wooden cups stands on a stone slab ready for use. The 
bluish grev smoke rises up towards the chimney opening. 
Far awav "from the entrance, at the right corner, the master 
of the house has his seat of honour, a small divan with a 

■«looi labiC DCIOrC it, aiul i-rlwrt; ti:J3 a.-^^i:i u i.-tj .- , 

like a hollow cracked cannon ball, filled with reeking dung 







embers. Some of Kamba Tsenam's shepherds are sitting 
in a },'n)Up drinking Ua, in another part some small black 
children are i)lavinf,', and in a third the women of the tent 
ar^' titlerinK- \^'ith pure while short hair, wrinkled like 
crushed parchment, stone-blind, and (b-essed like Monna 
Vanna onlv in a cloak, Kamba 'IVenam's eighty-three-year- 
old mother sits on her i)ed and swings her prayer mill with 
the right hand, while her left hand keejjs the lx."ads of her 
rosary in constant motion. She prattles and murmurs 
prayers, sometimes drojjs lier njsary to catch a troublesome 
insect, and sometimes lets the prayer mill stop when she is 
plunged in vague dreamy th(jught. Twice she asked if 
the Kuropean were still there and if he had been offered tea 
and food. 

May 5, the last dav we enjoyed Dorchc Tsuen's society, 
had to' be celebrated in some way. I invited the whole 
party to a fe-lival in the camp. The two Governors and 
Oang Gye took their places in my tent, in the middle of 
which our tea-cups were filled on an improvised table. 
The dav had k'en cold and muggy and snow fell, but we 
warmed' our hands over the fire, and sat wrapped in skin 
coats like four Tibetans of rank, while the populace formed 
a circle outside. .\ fire was lighted in the middle and was 
maintained bv dung from four sacks. It was pitch dark 
outside, but vellow tlames threw a bright gleam over the 
dark Tibetan's, servants, herdsmen, nomads and soldiers, 
women and children, youths and old men. They stood in 
wondering groups in their skin coats blackened by the 
smoke of fires, bare headed, with long black tresses hang- 
ing over tluir >houlders. The light from the fire made 
a ""vain attempt to gild them. They stood out in sharp 
etTeclive relief against the deep shadows (Illustration 3^6). 

I charged .\Ulul Kerim to do his very Ix-st, and he 
inlormed me that the programme would contain fifteen 
items, song and dance following alternately without a 
pause. The first item was a dance with slicks to represent 
swords; the second, a hunting ejnsode: a wild animal, 
coniposid of two crouching men with a jnece of felt over 
them and two sticks for horns, went prancing round the 
fire; a hunter with his gun crept about, took aim at the 

Niiii.i iJ^ln, 
lun.l -1 of till- ii..\tTiinifiit-K-. rt 
ih. u ,v t" the T(T' II i,n I.'i 

Nail^ '•' .^V i.'lwii : 

A lli);!i I .1111 ' 

.1 l.lL.k, In; 1'" I'f 

W.lUr .■'"11' Skcliiii'^ !■> till- Autlmr 

t I 









monster, killed him with a single shot ami Pc^Jor^^ed^^^^ 
his friends a triumphal dance around the carcase, inen 
folo T a Ladaki dance, little Gulam leadmg the trooj^ 
ind after that Suen executed his remark M.le dance Ix-forc 
rldv represented bv a stick he hel.l lx.-fore him. All he 
oti:r3\TSe\y 'clapping their hands and lav^-a the 
Tibetans to join in, and my guests m the tent vNert 

^"•^"?;!r MohammSs executed a Yarkand dance, with 
Kutus as leader. They danced round the fire -mgng 
their arms and skirts, and between the fie ^nd the en 
the, appeared only as black P'-f ^'^' ;y.^;^\,^" ' ^^.S^ 
side they were lighted up by the "j^.^^'^h >^"°^^ ^^A^^^^^^^ 
',nd their TXTsniring faces shone like bronze. .- song 
l.Sl ' wa^kin^g a 'sonorous echo in the mountams ai^ 
the Tibetans recognizing the air joined i"-^^"'! ^^ 'j^^. 
while the men clapped their hands ^ ^e ;"^°[^^/^V^,t i^ 
fire took part in the dances and sf,metlme^ "^ \ i^'^^ " 
he faces of the spectators, the singing became louder t c 
merriment more uncontrolled, and the nomads laughed til 
Thev had to support themselves with their hands on the. 
I'n'es as 'suen'Uvolved in grotesque P--ttes ovei^^h 
•irena and the nomads tried to imitate him. 1 ht clumpy 
Alxullah pJrformecl an indescribable clance -th ^js -k 
K„„f hcrV qrul when h' K-nt himself so mu^n tnai ne 
:,f bSarcf: to Ihe edge of the fire, the delight o 
he spectators was unbounded: they laughed il thc> 
tre breathi,ss. hopped alx.ut and uttered wikl yelK 
hfe the performer shook the sparks from his coat and 
ret ied to hi. corner (Illustrations 337- Sf, 339, 34o). 
Th 'I^)etans evidently enjoye,! themselves; perhap 
thev had never had such an amusing evening in their 
ivxl orche Tsuen said something of the sort, ^gavang 
gave wav to his kindly laugh, and Gang Gye enjo>ed 
fhe unwonted spectacle like a child. For my part I 
dreamed awhile and thought ..f the unexpected and sin- 
gu ar manner in which fate had allowed me to choose my 
eour^e. Thnnmh the cl' of smoke I seemed to see 
all old Asia Ixfore me, and the adventures of past >ea > 
behind me. A carnival of old camp-scenes danced ocfore 

a a 









my mind's eye, expiring like shooting stars in the night — 
merry songs which came to an end among other mountains 
and the dying sound of strings and llutes. And I was 
surprised that I had not had enough of these things and 
that I was not tired of the light of camp-fires. 

The wind rises, the snow falls thickly and hisses in the 
fire, and the flakes are lighted up fnjm below. With white 
hair and shoulders the Tilx'tans l<x)k like mist figures, and 
behind them hang the dark curtains of night, from which 
is heard from time to time a pony's neigh or a dog's 
bark. The last sack of fuel is emptied over the leajnng 
flames, burns up and sinks, and only emlx-rs are left, glow- 
ing in the ceaselessly falling snow. Then my grateful 
guests rise at midnight, distribute gifts to the performers, 
sav farewell, and vanish like ghosts in the darkness to seek 
their own tents. Xow night reigns alone over the valley, 
the surroundings lie silent and still, and only the pelting 
snow makes a swishing sound the tent. 

On the morning of May 6 the country was again white 
as in the depth of winter. Quietly and lightly as cotton- 
wool the flakes fell, and all, the Tilx-tans included, were 
more wrapped up than usual. The Governors and their 
retinue came to pay a farewell visit, and then I went out 
with them to their horses, took a last farewell, and thanked 
them for all the kindness they had shown me in spite of 
the trouble I had given them. Dorche Tsuen expressed 
a hope that we should meet again. It is much easier to 
get on with men and lead them where you wish if you 
treat them kindly and gently; you gain nothing by 
violence, harshness, and threats. The Governor was a 
fine upright figure on his horse ; his face was entirely 
covered with dark spectacles and a red hood to protect 
it from the blast (Illustration 342). His troop of mounted 
men was considerably diminished after his escort had Uen 
told off to follow me. They struck their heels into their 
horses and soon disappeared up the hill on the way to the 
Gara la. 

My caravan was now to Ix.- divided into two parties. 
Onlyfivt' men were to follow me. namely. Gulam, Lub- 
sang, Kutiis, Tubgcs. and Kunchuk. We had eight goats 

TW.) 1. \M \-- I'l ^II M"l^<;- 

,o \| . --Ill I r ' K. '--IM. 1 III Kl\ I- f >"vi \ i> \Nt.i'a. 













to ^u\)[)h milk; our old shec{> had Urn sold for a mere 
tiillt.'. A hundred rui)CTS for the first five days were paid 
in advance to the escort under Nima Tashi. \o agree- 
ment was made with Panchor, but he was t(j U- paid well 
if he took me where I wished. The other seven Ladakis 
were ordered to pnxeed under the command of Abdul 
Kerim over the Samye-la to the Buptsang-tsangpo, follow 
tlie stream slowly downwards, and wait for us near its 
ni(juth in the 'larok-tso. Whatever they did, they were 
not to leave the Buptsang-tsangpo, or we might lose one 
an<»ther. Rindor and Pemba Tsering were deputed to 
follow them over the Samye-la to Buptti, to bring the 
Kebyang people to reason if they refused transport 
animals. My baggage was reduced to a minimum, and 
I took with mc only a thousand rupees. Abdul Kerim 
was responsible for the remainder of the cash. He was 
an honest man, but a noodle. Some nomads accom- 
panied us with six yaks for the baggage (Illustrations 344, 
348, 345)- 

Though, according to our plans, we were to be sepa- 
rated only a few weeks, the parting was touching, and many 
childish tears trickled down weather-lxaten cheeks. VVc 
had bought more horses, and all my five Ladakis could 
ride. We rale up the valley in close order; the lx>ttom 
was full of loose rotten ice, lumpy tufts of grass with mice- 
holes among them, frozen springs, and detritus of hard 
sireen schist. We marched north-eastwards, and then due 

and down 
at Kamba 

west, over the small double pass Shalung-la, 
•) the Gyegong \alley, where we encam.[)ed 
Tscnam's sheepfolds to buy some sheep for 
escort had got there first, and sat in their 
drinking tea. 

We sat talking with Kamlxi Tsenam and 
when a tall and strongly-built young fellow came 
down at the opening of my tent. 

"I have seen the Bomljo Ix-fore," he said, 
neighbourhood of Xakchu. Vou had a Buryat 
lama with you. That is seven years ago." 

"Quite right. Have you brought me a message?" 

"Xo; I only wi.-^h to a^k if you are dis|)osed to buy two 

food. The 
black tent 

and sat 

"in the 
and a 

1 *' 

i r 





'I it 

1 l! 




^'o(k1 yaks from nu-. Vou can have tlum for half thtir 


"Thanks; we do not want any yaks now. What is 
your (H( u|>ation .■'" 

"KohlKr'." hf answered, without blinking. 

.\ftiT he had ^oiu'. Kanitia T-enam informed me that 
sometime at.;o thi' man had killed a nomad in Kukyok, and 
now was (ome to treat alM)Ut the compensation for the 
murder. 'Iht' authorities were looking eagerly for the 
hand to whieh he iK-lon^'ed, and Kainha Tsenam and 
I'anehor knew exactly where they were hidin.i,', but would 
not Ixtray them lest tliey shoulcj Ix; rol)lHd of their pro- 
l)erty in revenue. Kamha Tsenam an<l his brother were 
evidently on very ronfidential terms with the roblxTs of 
the cou'ntrv, and I very much susjiected that they were in 
league with some of them. In I'an< hor we luul certainly 
an actual rol)ber chief as guide. He him.self told Us that 
the Devashung had tried to en.tfage him in their service as 
a s])v ami guide, when they wished to track up an evaded 
robber band, l)Ut hi- would not consent. He knew that 
we had a largi- (juantity of money with Us, and we were 
not too safe in his company. He could very well arrange 
a night attack and in the end i)lay the innonnt. He pre- 
tended not to know the country Ixyond a cou]>le of days' 
journev to the north, but wlun he ins|)(.cted our si.\ horses 
he said: "This one you bought from an okl nomad to the 
west of Sha-kangsham. and this one from Tsongpun 
Tashi." If he knew every horse in the covmtry, he must 
also know the country very well. 1 asked him to go over 
the names of our cami)lng-j)laces to the north, but he gave 
only the first two, and added: "The rest you will know- 
as vou go on, and if I cannot find them myself, there will 
alwavs l)e some roblx-rs I can ask." 

C)n May 7 we tiK^k leave of the old r.)blx'r chief 
Kaml)a Tsenam, and rode in close order uj) to the pass 
Gvegong la. which has a height of 18,012 feet. The pass 
stands on a distinctly marked chain, which is called Kan- 
chung-gangri, and it was very interesting to find that all 
the water on the northern side of the pass llowed to the 
upper Chaklak tsangpo 

Kanrhung-gangri is therefore not 




part of the main ran^o of the Trans Himalaya, and the 
CycKon^; la is only a secondary i)a>s. 'Hie ^reat water- 
shed lav some days'' journey farther to the north. 

On the northern side we i)a>sed a warm sprinR, Memo- 
(hutsen. which at the oritue had a temi»erature of g.v^'', 
while in another the water Ixjiled and steamed. The 
sprinf^s are surrounded by sinter, terraces, and basins in 
whi(h sick jKople bathe. 

Tanclior had an old field -^lass and diligently l(H)ke(l out 
for robUTs and wild yaks, lie said that we ought always 
t(. keep together in ca-^e we were attackid by roblxr^ he 
did not kn(jw, and he bade us help with our weap<jns in the 

The camp this day was \o. 400. 




i- - 









Twenty-nine degrees of frost on the night of May 8. 
Winter instead of sj)ring might U- roniing. A month ago 
it was much varmer in Hongha. Hut now we are mounting 
up to the heigtits of the Trans Himalaya, the weather is 
cold, raw, and windy, the temi)erature seldom al)ovc 
free/ing-])oint. and to-day the whole country is again 
buried in snow. 

We ride northwards and descend from a small saddle 
to the Chat.; ik tsangpo, near which we have to halt 
awhile to warm ourselves at a fire. The river Ix-nds to the 
west-south-west to break through Kanchung-gangri. On 
its bank i> seen a tent, eight horses, and a hundred sheep. 
Pani hor went olT to-day to stalk a herd of ninety wild yaks, 
and Xima Tashi, the captain of the Ixnlyguard, was sure 
that a roblx-T band was in the tent, for no nomads are seen 
in this col<l country. Tht escort, jjarticularly Xima Tashi, 
were dreadfully afraid of roblxTs; and Panchor had told 
us that we could mnke them go anywhere by frightening 
the soldiers with robk-rs. When Panchor appeared again, 
he said iliat the suspected U nt wa'^ really inhabited by the 
band which had the murder in Rukyok on its conscience, 
and he added that if the people in Ruky k would not let 
the matter rest, the band thrtatened to commit nev crimes 
in the country. T aski-d why the authorities did not 
seize- the chief now when he was s" near, but Panchor 
shook his head and said that if he was taken and killed. 

others would 

down on the countrv, and that 





. ;;.--ar_ 





ANSI O'.d ISO TEb. ^HART No ? 






III 2.5 

II 2.2 


1.4 mil 1.6 

A ■'■ "'PLIED IfVVIGE Inc 

" I4609 L5* 

ssim^r^^'*i;vc- •^^•- 

, ,. -U L Mt'y-<- --C^ "At7«^->-^: :^^^.^*|^- -^'^^^-r 





Hcili(.t;iy Cnstmin- aiul OriKiiiK'Hi- "i Tilu'Mii WMiiu-n 
I'i Kv.mur.iiiL; m tin.' Ir.iii--! liMi.r.iy.i 

W.ilcr-iciidi.i SkiUii' 






would be worse. A bandit's life in Tibet is on the whole 
a very pleasant one. ,, 

Following the stream upwards we came to the small 
lake Lapchung-tso, entirely covered with ice, and sc up 
camn \oi UlPil ^^■<-'t) ''" il^ eastern shore. It is enclosed 
among hills and surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains. 
To the south Kanchung-gangri appears in all its spkndour. 
The snow is much more aVjundant on Us northern than on 
its southern side, and in the hollows Ix'tween Us summits 
three large and several small glaciers, short and steep, arc 
seen From all the valleys on the north, north-west, and 
north-east brooks descend to the Lapchung-tso, and from 
"he southern cxtremitv of the lake the Chaktak-tsangpo 
issues and a little "distance farther south-west breaks 
through Kanchung-gangri. , 

May Q -o.Q° at this time of year! We move north- 
eastwards along the eastern shore of Lapchung-tso, and 
follow a well-lK-aten road consisting of quite fifty para Uel 
paths. It is verv interesting to draw another line on the 
map of Til)et through a part unknown before. Here 
travel the merchants whose destination is east Bongba and 
Chokchu, and here passes a large part of the salt traffic 
from Ta'bie-tsaka, as' well as pilgrims on their way home 
from Kang-rinpoche. The last usually follow the tasam 
onTheir ou'tward journey, but return by the northern route 
- this is, that the whole pilgrimage may make a kore or a 
loop of salvatioii. , 

Our direction Ix^comes now more northerly and we go 
up the Sangmo-bertik valley, where the lx)ttom is fil ed 
VN^th ice clear as glass, but there is good pasturage on the 
Cks The country is quite flat 'oebveen Kanchung- 
gangri and the main crest of the Trans-Hima aya^ In the 
fongitudinal valley Ix-tween the two we see to the north 
60° W., the comparatively low saddle Dicha-la ^^hich is 
however, a watershed of the first rank, for U parts the 
water flowin" to the ocean from the isolated drainage of 
Te "lat^u "over the Dicha-la runs the lat.y mentioned 
road to the Buptsang-tsangpo and Tabie-tsaka. ^orth, 
n-.rth-uP.t and north-east are several gangns with firn- 
fields and snow, all belonging to the main range 01 the 








J ^ 




'rrans-IIimalaya. To the cast lies a pass, tht- Xaklx)- 
kongdo la, with the .\aklx)-gongrong-gangri ; over this 
pass, which also seems to lie on the main watershed, a 
road runs to Targo <^an<^ri and Dangra-yum-tso. Between 
Raga-tasam and Omho a road crosses the Tsalam-naktada, 
mostly frequented by >alt caravans. From camp 402 we 
could still see Chomo uchonf; to the south, 13° K. 

A member of the roblxT band we saw the day Ix^fore 
paid us a visit and was evidently an old friend of Panchor. 
He gave us many interestinj^ details of the Teri-nam-tso 
and Mendong gompa, which were afterwards found to Ix' 
perfectly correct. I never could make out Panchor. Either 
he was in league with the devil himself, or he was a fully 
fledged knave at his own risk and reckoning. He now 
assured me that it would be the easiest thing in the world 
to take me to the Teri-nam-tso and j)erhaps also to the 
Dangra-yum tso. O g<Hls of Xaktsang. slumlxr in this 
cold spring and do not warn your earthly vassals until it is 
too late ! Ves, if I could only contrive to cross the Trans- 
Himalaya twice more, I would then willingly leave this 
mighty range to rest a thousand years under a veil of 
clouds and glittering snowfidds. It is strange that this 
wide country, so near to the Indian frontier, should have 
remained abs(jlutely unknown till our late times. I am 
proud and delighted to know that I am the first white man 
to penetrate to this wilderness. 

Panchor advi.sed us to stay a day in the valley, for we 
should not find pasture as good as here for a long time. I 
wondered how he could know that, .seeing that he had said 
recently that he had never been north of the Sangmo- 

On the night of May 11 the thermometer fell to 3°. 
We found ourselves in a great enlargement of the Trans- 
Himalaya called Lap, and this region is noted for its severe 
climate. Even in the middle of summer, when it is warm 
everywhere else, it is cold in Lap. The ice breaks up on 
La])chung-tso only in the beginning of June after all the 
other ice is melted. From the map it is seen that many 
considerable rivers, llowing north and south, lake their rise 
in this lofty swell. 

-t ' ■■' ■ I- 

\\ ' 


[I r! 






The (lay's march took us up to higlKT ground aivl tin- 

1 at all, but a track wirKhng 

dreadful — not a roa( 

tc l>ouldcrs and yak moss. And ntxt day it 

way was 

among granite, .^..^.v.^... j 

was still worse. In raw wintry weather, with a tenvera- 
ture of 1.2°, we wound w\) the ascent extremely slowly, 
where all small and material had lx.-en removed, so 
that the animals might at any moment break their legs 
among the stones. Here no other vegetation was seen 
but a moss, yellow as the yolk of an egg, and another 
shading into red. On the left we three small 
glaciers with a blue tinge on their fronts. Ry one of them 
some wild yaks walke.l meditatively. The weather was s<) 
c(jld that we had to stop freriuently to warm our hands at 
a small dung fire. Panchor insisted .strongly on these 
halts "ii: order that the Bombo may not be tired ; but i 
suspect it was chiefly because he wanted a pulT from his 

Chinese gansa. 

Though it was a great struggle for our horses, we 
came at last to the Sangmo-bertik-la, at the giddy height 
of IQ.094 feet, and now I stoo<l for the seventh time on 
the main crest of the Trans- Himalaya and the vyatershed 
of the great Indian rivers. The view was clo.sec in on all 
sides and limited by adjacent heights. On a sharp ndge 
to the north-west seven yaks were tramping in the snow_ 
Panchor and one of the soldiers went on foot in pursuit ot 
them — to mount steep hills on foot and carry heav'v, 
clumsy guns is tough work. We rcxle on among the 
granite boulders; lower down green p<jrphyry begins. 
The gradient became more gentle, and where we en- 
camped we could scarcely perceive in which direction the 

valley sloped. . , , ^- i „ 

The day had been stormy, and the blast contmued on 
May 13. Little Puppy went out to look at the morning, 
but crept back again and lay on his mat. Takkar was still 
irreconcilable towards his countrymen, the Tibetans, and 
inspired the greatest respect in all the escort and Panchor. 
We rode on through the valley northwards past numerous 
summer camping-grounds, and recognized the characteristic 
low rebel 01 Cnang-ta.ig m wHua... .'■ '•--';--- r^'' 
excavated valleys on the southern side of the Irans- 



Himalaya. At the mouih of a sidi- vallry runninj^ in from 
the west the eseort cami- to a halt, and Xima Ta^hi 
e.\|)hiine(i ttiat our road to Hui)t6. where we hail agreed to 
meet Alxlul Keriin's j)arty, ran up this valley, and that they 
did not intend to f^o farther north. 'Ihey now showeil 
their teeth for the first time, and were not so pliant as wc 
thou<,'ht. They excused themselves on the ^'round that 
their yaks were tired, that their provisions were at an end, 
and that they had no orders to accompany us more than 
ffjurteen days. Panchor, the scoundrel, took their part, 
and frij^ditened us with the chief of Hon<,'l)a-chu>har, who 
took tribute from all the robbers of the country, ami would 
certainly jjlunder us if we jjasscd through his domain. 
After long consideration we decided to camp where wc 
were to thoroughly discuss the situation. Before the sun 
had set I had won them over, though it was chiefly the 
chink of silver rupees which made them forget all their 
scruples. It was agreed that they should receive their 
20 rupees every evening, and I gave them a goat in 
addition, as their sui)i)ly of meat was at an end. 

So on May 14 we nxle farther north in blinfling snow, 
and passed numerous luanis, nine standing in one row. 
The valley became more open, and was more than a mile 
broad. We found no water at the camp, but two of our 
yaks were laden with blocks of ice. Every evening we 
sat an hour conversing with Panchor, and it was easy to 
check his statements. I told him once for all, that if he 
did not speak the truth he would receive no extra gratuity. 
In the evening he declared that there were dreadful 
apparitions at Muhamed Isa's grave, and that at night 
fearful shrieks and groans could be heard from beneath. 
He was quite convinced that .spirits ..iid demons haunted 
the grave, and said that no Tibetan ventured to go near 
the place; this was well, for consequently the grave would 
not be desecrated. 

He gave me also much valuable information about the 
country round Xam-tso or Tengri-nor, where he was born. 
He had gone twice round Xam-tso, thrice round Tso- 
mavang, and tvv'clve times iuund Kaiig-iiiipodie, wiiieh he 
intended to visit again soon, to complete the thirteenth 


;(i I. 'I'll' \ II I \'.l 111 1.1 N k \K. 

3^;. (iKOLl' l)K TlllKrANS \r lllK TKkl-N \M TSI). 





rirruit f.f siilvatinn. lie ronsi.lcml it superfluous to make 

tin- cirruit o 

f Dangni yum t^o and Targo-«anj;ri 

for ht 





1 s.) far that all his sins must h 


till hi" was suro of pronv 

)ti<)n in the next mcar- 

I'anrhor had net the slightest doubt that a man 
ir'horso which had dnmk of the water of Tso-mavang or 

une from illness, rohlxTs, and 
fire blazed out of that 

Nam-tso was 





It is just as tliouj^h a 


rt of the IkkIv where the wolf intern 

is to seize him," he 

iTirmed. But he i 

nsidiTablv modified his statements 

,11111 llll.< I. I* HI "^ , 1 ■ 1 1 1 I 1 

after I had told him that we had a mule whieh had <lrunt 
f..r a whole month of the water of Tso-mavans an(l yet 
had Ix-en torn in pieres by wolves at (iartok. "\cs, he 
rei.lied, "the- protection is only for TilKnans and their 
animals, not for F.uropeans and their animals. And if the 
wolf itself drank of the holy water it would avail nothing; 
he would still seize his prey." _ ^ 

The 15th of Mav we set out again in a snowstorm, 
wheieas Thad been looking forward ever since January to 
spring. It caused great merriment, both among the 
Tibetans and the I.adakis, when one of the escort who did 
not know Kunchuk's name, spoke of him as ''that there 
calf" We had travelled a goenl long way l)cfore they 
ceased to laugh at the newly invented title, which stuck to 
Kum huk ever after. 

The valley opens out on to a plain where kiangs, 

Goa and Pantholops antelopes arc plentiful. From the 

ridge of a hill we see to the east another still larger 

plain, Ix-vond which Targo-gangri would be visible if the 

mountain' were not shrouded in clouds and falling snow. 

Buchu-tso is a small pool which dries up in summer. 

There lay three black tents, and fjeyond another hill in 

the locality Kangmar, seven. When we encamped, si.xty 

men, women, and children came out and watched us. 

They had gathereo together here to pay their taxes to 

a collr>ctor from Saka. The district is called Bongba- 

chushar, and the e'derly gova came to visit us. He was a 

discreet man and put no awkward (luestions. I anchor 

who was aec u^loiViCtl to run wiui uiv hci-.Q an.. !ij..i wi..i 

the hounds, had probably given him an account of us 






I I 

I t 

r 'I 

I. I 


f :i 

beforchancl._ It scorns he was tcrril)lv fnVhtcnod. for he 
had never in his Hfe seen a Kuropran. However, he Rave 
us much vahial.Ie information about the country, anion^r 
other things that the Uttle twin hikes Mun-t^o lav lo thC 
no.-th ot the Barony hi and east of the Teri-nam-tso, not 
south of the Dangra-yum-tso as on Xain Sing's man. 
which I had myself f,;und to he incorrect. On the way to 
the leri-nam-tso we .should he able in two places to steal 
goose eggs; it was forbidden to tlie Tibetans for three 
years to take them, but a European could permit himself 
anything without having to answer for it to the gods of 
heaven and earth. 

After a day's re>^t we marched north-north-cast to the 
broa.l longitudinal valley of Sonia-tsangpo. The river 
descends from the, an<i probably has its 
source in the great mountain system we .saw 'from the 
hhuru-tso. Here it runs west-north west. Init afterwarls 
turns north and north-eastwards, and therefore makes a 
sharp curve betore it enters the Its berl is 
tlat and .shallow, and at the time carried down about -80 
cubic feet of water per .sec(K-<l. but it is s<, full in summer thnt 
sometimes it cannot be forded. We camped at a snr, 1- 
in a yalley at the farther side, and on May 18 ascended 
he adjacent I).,ngchen-la, and on it^ south slopes 
twenty-four Ovis Ammon .sheep were a fine .sicrht 

On the night of the 19th. the minimum temperature ^vas 
2g.5 . an.l now It felt as if spring were really come, or 
even summer. I he way ran north-west up a steep yalley 
where granite an.l dark schists were twice obseryed in .situ 
o the small ,.ass Teta-h. (16.266 feet), where we had a^ 
length a free view over the longed-for lake 
•Nam Sings I ede-nam-tso. which he never visited nor saw, 
but only heard of. and in.serted with a broken line quite 
correctly on his map. The only mistake he made was to 
<lra\\ the lake longer from north to south instead of from 

To obtain an uninterrupted view we climbed up a height 
nn he north side of the (16.07. ^m). ihe scene 

liere di.splayed in all directions wns on,. ,.f »i,o ... .. 

and memorable taljleaus I have seen in Tilx^t".'"' The 




'•heavenly lake" lay like a great flat-cut turquoise framed 
in mountains and hills shaded in pink, red, yellow, and 
purple, which, towards the horizon, gradually passed into 
a light blue veil. Only to the south-east quadrant is the 
view obstructed by adjacent heights belonging to the chain 
on the crest of which we stand, and which runs along the 
southern shore of the lake, but elsewhere the view is open, 
fli/./.y, boundless, and the eyes scan Ijoth Sha-kangsham's 
majestic peak and Targo-gangri's many-headed ridge, 
and the seven times mounted main range of the Trans- 
Himalaya, with its snow-crowned heights rising in a row 
(jf bright white domes to the south. Many other peaks 
and domes with eternal snow rise over this sea of tumbled 
waves, but, after all, the finest sight is the lake itself, which 
charms and fascinates the spectator by its intense ultra- 
marine hue, a couple of shades deeper and stronger than 
turquoise. When one first comes to the saddle of the and this wealth of colouring strikes the retina, one 
can scarcely restrain an exclamation of astonishment and 
admiration. We look down straight on the lake, and its 
southern shore is just below us. To the west it extends 
for two days' journey, and widens out enormously, while to 
the east it contracts and seems to stretch a good day's 
journey. Due north-east the blue surface is broken by 
a steep rocky i.slet, with a level shore only in the east, and 
farther cast one fancies one can detect the hollow where 
the basin of the Dangra-yum-tso skirts the northern foot 
of the divine Targo-gangri mountain. 

Beautiful weather, not a cloud on the blue vault of 
heaven, calm and quiet, only the gentlest whisper over the 
hills sounding in the ears like the tinkle of small bells and 
the vibration of strings. One feels overwhelmed by this 
grand beauty, which speaks more {K)werfully to the senses 
than the high mass of any archbishop. I stood several 
hours up here and made a hopeless attempt to sketch the 
landscape, but succeeded in producing only a feeble imita- 
tion of the reality. From the Teta-la one commands a very 
considerable area of the heart of Tibet. How extensive 
i>. the line of Sh;i-kan2sham. ! How many arc the points 
from which I have viewed this wonderful mountain on 




" I 

! i 

(I ii 

I ,1 




diflercnt journeys! Like a gigantic beacon, a marvellous 
landmark, it raises its snow-covered dome above deso- 
late Tibet. And we were far from its drijjiiing glaciers 
when for the last time it sank below the horizon like a 
dream of snow and roses. 

At last we had to drag ourselves away and follow the 
track of the other men to a little drearv valley where they 
had encamped near a couple of tents. Even here the view 
was remarkable. How I now missed my old tried lx)at, 
and how gladly I would have glicJed with "sail and oar over 
the heavenly lake ! 

We remained four whole days at this miserable camp 
with its fine view (15,646 feet). The fact was that Dangra- 
yum-tso now for the fourth time began to haunt my 
dreams, and as the holy lake was only four days' journey 
to the east, I would try to reach its shore. But Xima 
Ta.shi and Panchor put all kinds of dilTiculties in the way: 
their yaks would perish where there was no grazing, and 
It Wiis impossible to hire yaks, for all had lately gone to 
Tabie-tsaka for .salt. I j)ro{)osed to go on my own horses 
and meet them at Mendong-gompa after the e.xcursion, 
and to this they made no objection at first. If I had not 
been by this time heartily sick of Tibet, I would have 
played them a pretty trick, and gone not only to Dangra-, but farther eastwards until I was stopped. But 
I was weary of geography, disc.n-cries, and adventures, 
and wanted to get home. And besides, on comparing the 
lands east and west of the I considered the 
latter far better worth visiting. The former I had traversed 
by three routes, and two other travellers had been there, 
but no one had been in the west, and wc knew nothing 
about it e.xcept the uncertain data which the Jesuits had 
gathered from the natives two hundred vears ago. In 
fact this land was the least known part 'of Tibet, and 
the road to the Xganglanng-tso the blank patch 
m Its longer direction. If the authorities had asked 
me which way I would choose, I should have answered, 
the way to the Xganglaring-iso. It would have l)cen 
wisest to at nnro with \i'r.-..i 'r.>.i,;'.. .....,...,,:.. ^ 

to go straight to ^^endong-gompa. But their opposition 

^|M: v4?r:V;i.w, 

^()'i. 'liil. \ni,\..i. >'i l.iskvk iKcr.i I HI. Ii.Mrii llii.i. 

3'i;. ThK SoLlllKKN MlilKK UV \\ \\\> \Kn\\ \K \M1II (iK\ZlN'. \\KS. 

I '1 

tl il 

H i 






eeeed me on to break another lance for Dangra-yum-tso 
I ought to have rememlxred that he who grasps at all 
loses all, for I was within an ace of losing Mendong gompa 
into the bargain. , , , , 

For when Nima Tashi saw that he could not make me 
eive way, he secretly sent a message to Tagla-Tsenng, the 
chief of Sangge-ngamo-buk, the district we were m and 
which is subject to Naktsang. And Tagla-Tsenng came^ 
Last year he had been in Lundup's train when the latter had 
stopped us at the foot of Targo-gangri and prevented us 
from going to *he shore of the holy lake Now he looked 
very grand a. important. Over a mantle of panther skm 
he wore a belt of six bright silver gaos, and in the belt was 
stuck a sword with a silver scabbard inlaid with turquoise 
and coral, and at his side rattled knives and other pendent 
articles. Over all, he wore a long reddish-violet mantle 
and on his head a Chinese silk cap. He was accompanied 
by six horsemen, and, the day after, twenty more arrived 
all armed to the teeth with guns, swords, and lances; a 
in picturesque bright -coloured costumes, some with tall 
brimmed hats on their heads, others with bandages round 
their foreheads. Tagla-Tsering evidently took the matter 
seriously, and tried to get over me by talking of raising the 
militia (Illustration 329). ^ r • ji 

The powerful chief meanwhile entered my tent, friend y 
and pleased, and like an old friend, bade "f hra».tily 
welcome, and expressed his great astomshment that 1 had 
come back again, though I had been forced the year tg ore 
to turn back. Had I not already brought about Hlaje 
Tsering's fall, and would I cause the new Governor of 
Naktsang to meet the same fate? Or what did I mean? 

"No, Hedin Sahib, you cannot travel to Naktsang. 
Turn to the west. Nima Tashi had no authority to lead 
you even to the Teri-nam-tso; it was on the Buptsang- 
tsangpo you were to meet the caravan. You talk ot 
Mendong-gompa. You have no right to travel thither. 
There is a nearer way to the rendezvous. Mendong- 
gompa does not lie in my district, but all the same I have 
^nt written notices to all the govas in the country to stop 
you if you travel to the monastery." 










Poor Nima Tashi was half dead with fright. He had 
thought to frighten me, but now he saw that the chief and 
I sat together like old friends, firinking tea and smoking 
cigarettes, while he was reprimanded for bringing me 
too far. I told him afterwards that he was a noodle, and 
If he now got into trouble in Saka it was his own fault. 
1 agla- 1 senng s good humour was much enhanced when I 
promised to turn back and conform to the arrangements of 
the chiefs on the way to Mendong, if by any chance I was 
prevented from approaching the convent. 

We said farewell on May 24 and continued our journey 
westwards along the .southern shore of the lake The 
water IS salt and has an extremely unpleasam taste, and 

rr«fi f \ • """" '" ''">' circumstances. Lamlung-la 
(10,880 feet) is a commanding pass, which must Ix.- crossed 
o cut on a peninsula The rocks are granite and green 
sch s . Hares and wild-geese are verv plentiful. Here 
and there are freshwater lagoons on the sh.^re, which forms ' 
a very narrow k'lt at the foot of the mountains. The 
northern shore k'lt seems to be much broader. We 
follovved the southern shore another dav to the sprin-' 
Icrtsi at the western extremity of the lake, which forms 
a Jargc regular expansion. 

I heard the name of this lovely lake variously pro- 
nounced by duTerent nomads. Xain Sing's Tede-nam tso 
IS mcorrect. The Gova of Kangmar insLsted that Tsari? 
nam-tso was the correct pronunciation, and said that the 
nanie was bestowed lx>cause ri di tsa-la tso yore, that is, 
The lake situated at the foot of the mountain." The' 
nomads on the shore, however, said Tiri- or Teri-nam-tso 
;nn""VT^ 411 were two small mountains on the shore! 
called Tcchen and Techung, or the Great and Little Te 
or morecorrectlv Ti. Ti is a lama's throne in a temple' 
n signihes mruntain, nam heaven, and tso lake The' 
whole name therefore has the poetical meaning of the 
Throne-mountain's Heavenly Lake. Its height above sea- 

TuV^'^vV'T' °'" ^''^ ^''' '"^^•^'- than Mont Blanc 
which If It lifted up its head from the turquoise billows of 
the lake, would look like the small rocky islet in its eastern 




We left on Mav 26 the heavenly lake, the shore of which 
had never before been trodden by European or pundit, and 
saw its blue s'lrface diminish to a sabre blade between the 
mountains, and finally disappear in the east, while we rode 
westwards over a wide i)lain, which was formerly under 
water. Kutus, Lobsant,', and Panchor accompanied me. 
We must hasten to descend on the monastery Ix-forc the 
monks got wind of us, and the caravan and escort could 
come after and encamp near Mendong-gompa. Panchor 
disappeared at the first tent we passed, and was not seen 
again all day. He was a coward, and did not wish to be 
suspected of showing us the way to the sanctuary. We 
had therefore to shift for ourselves and find our way 

Two men and a woman came out of a nomad encamp- 
ment to the track we followed, and asked if we had seen 
the European who was said to be travelling about Bongba. 
In order to preserve my incognito till I came to Mendong, 
I answered that he was coming lx.hind with his caravan, 
and if they kept on the look out they would see an amusing 
figure. Probably they had long given up all hope of seeing 
the stranger. My involuntary disguise therefore did me 
good service, for the nomads took me to be, like the other 
two men, servants of the expected European. 

Hour after hour we rode on westwards and looked in 
vain for a monastery. But at last it cropped up all of a 
sudden. Wc were on liie top of a i;anr: terrace 30 icct 
high, skirting on the cast the channel of the Soma-tsangpo, 

VOL. II 3«5 »f^ 




!t !i 




and saw at the foot of the oppiosite terrace the quadrangular 
stone- house of the monastery with its white walls and red 
frieze, chhortcns, mani heaps, and streamers, and on the 
east and west of it two tent \-illages, the upper inhabited 
by Mxty monks, the lower by forty nuns (Illustration 360). 
The Soma tsangpo, also called Xyagga, or Soma-Nyagga- 
tsangpo, now carried down 350 to 420 cubic feet of water, 
which, divided into four channels, glided over a treacher- 
ously deepening liottom. We managed, however, to ford 
It. and rode up to the gate of the monastery, where ten 
monks, good naturtd but reserved, met us. I have no 
space to dcscrilx.' the religious organization of Mendong- 
gompa. It is enough to say that hitherto it was quite 
unknown even by name, like so many of the convents we 
visited the year Ix-fore. The peculiarity of this monastery 
IS that the brothers and sisters live in black tents, and 
every tent is a cell. The tents had a very comfortable and 
attractive appearance, but the sisters, of whom I took some 
portraits, were hideous to behold — old unwashed harpies 
barbarous and demoralized. That there is anything idyllic 
and fascinating in life in a nunnery in the wilds is a pure 
illusion, which vanishes at once at the sight of these old 
apes. They have aLso a puzzling resemblance to their 
male colleagues, and it is often difficult to decide whether 
one of them is a man or a woman (Illustration 354). 

When we left the solitary monastery on May 28 we 
decided to make for the rendezvous on the Bup«sang- 
t.sangpo, where Abdul Kcrim would no doubt be uneasy at 
our prolonged absence. It had been arranged that' we 
should be separated only two weeks, but before we reached 
the river a whole month wou d have passed away. 

So we set out early, followed the right bank of the 
Soma-tsangpo southwards, and crossed the range from the 
top of which at the Teta-Ia, we had first seen the Teri-nam- 
tso. The valley is quite 2J miles broad, the strand terraces 
arc well developed, the fall is slight, and the rush of water 
is seldoni heard; here and there stands a tent with grazing 
flocks. One more sunrise and we ride through the river 
(Illustration 3'58), which with fhf. Sach-i-t=on„n<i B—* 
sang-tsangpo, and Bogtsang-tsangpo shares the "honour'^of 

^.;'A^:^'^' ■' 



;(>>. I.rsk \K-i.i>\ir\. 

M I ll'l k-i.' i\n' \. 


■?,'^ja=^;toi; ; -i. 

I • 

i! 1 


k • , 1 





being one of the largest in the interior of Tibet. Through 
the valley Goa-lung we rode up on May 30 to the pass 
Goa-la (17,382 feet), flat and easy, lying amidst pink and 
grey granite, and affording an instructive view over the 
Trans- Himalaya to the south. To the south west we sec, 
close Ix-low th'^ pass, the small lake Karong tso — a new- 
discovery, like everything else in this country. Our route 
ran to the west, when we, on June i, rode, with the 
Karong-tso on our left hand, and a crest of mediun-. 
height on our right, through the district Bongbakemar, 
following the great route of the salt caravans Vxtween 
Raga-tasam and Tabie-tsaka, which crosses the already men- 
tioned pass Tsalam-nakta-la. A highroad from Naktsang 
joins this. At camp 417 we had the Chunit-tso near us 
on the north-west. 

Although we were at the l)eginning of June, the 
minimum sank below freezing-point; in the night of the 
ist the thermometer fell to 16.3°. But the day \vas warm, 
nay hot, when the sun shone and the air was still. The 
dreary barren valleys lay waiting for the rainy season. 
The grass was more than scanty, for last summer the rains 
failed. Our direction turned more to the south-w 
From camp 418 we saw, to the south, 60° E., the openi 
of a valley through which a highway runs throug.. 
Bongba-kyangrang over the Dicha-la to LafKhung. 

Our Tibetans know excellently well how to look after 
themselves on the journey. On the march they twist 
string, talk, sing and whistle, and shout at their yaks. In 
pitching their camp they set up their black tent in a 
moment, first stretching out the ropes and fastening them 
into the ground with wooden pegs, and then throwing the 
cloth over the poles. The animals are unloaded and sent 
ofl to feed, and the men gather fuel and make a fire in the 
tent, where all assemble to drink tea and sleep. After 
a couple of hours they come out again, wrestle, play and 
laugh. In the dusk one may be heard singing a monoto- 
nous ballad, which must, however, be amusing, for the 
others laugh heartily at every verse. Morning and even- 
ing they gabble their prayers, all together, murmuring like 
bees in a hive. An old man, whom I knew the year before, 


I J 







has a riding yak of his own, and hranrh'shcs the escort's 
prayer mill. IK' i-, never mth without this ingenious 
instrument. The men are always ^(mxI natured and polite, 
help us to eolkct fuel, .set up the tents and load the animals, 
and lr((|utntly pay us a visit. \\\- know them all by name 
and are the he.-t of friends. 

The temperature sank in the nit,'ht only a few depees 
Ix'low free/in-,' point, and yet a snowstorm raged almost all 
day long (.n June 3. We rode j)ast a large marsh in the 
valley and up to the flat saddle Merke sang, with a view 
over the i)lain we crossed e.xartly two months Ixfore on 
the way to the Huf)tsang tsangiKj. Camp 4iy lav therefore 
in the Hongha kehyang district again. To the 'south-east 
IS the pass Chiptu la, with the pilgrim route from Xakchu 
to Kang riniK)che. To the .s(,uth. 27° W., rises a snowy 
summit, at the foejt of which a road Kads over tlu- Dsalung- 
la to Tradum. As a watershid this pass is ol the first rank, 
and it sends oil a voluminous tributary to the Huptsang- 
tsangiK). The escort sent ofT a messenger in advance to 
this river to look out for Alxlul Kerim's party. 

June 4. It had snowed all night long, and we set out 
in the wildest snowstorm. It was half dark, with heavy 
leaden clouds; not a glimpse could be seen of the surround- 
ing mountains; all was wet. muddy, and evil smelling; 
pools of melting snow lay on the ground, and seven 
pilgrims from Kang rini)ochc were close upon us before 
they emerged from the mist. WV splashed through the 
soaked soil, but when we encamped on the shore of the 
Buptsang-tsangpo the weather was much clearer. 

Before I jjroceed further I will mention that the great 
province of Hongba is divided into twelve tso or districts 
namely: Parryang, Laktsang, Bupto, Tsaruk. Yeke, Tarok' 
Kebvang, Kemar, Parma, Changma, Kvangrang, and 
C hushar. To each of these district names is usually pre- 
lixed the name of the pro\ince, as, for instance, Bongha- 
parryang, Bongba-laktsang, etc. We were now in Bongba- 
kebyang. " 

Some tents stood _ on the river bank. The nomads 
rcpurteu that Abdui Kerim had gone a week before by a 
cross-cut over the mountain on the right, down towards the 

% r^-' 





1 < 





Tarok-tso. There was no gova here, but two natives were 
ready to let us on hire the five yaks wc required. They 
were shy and timorous, but Panchor, the rogue, spoke well 
of us, and it was agreed that they should accompany us to 
the boundary of Tarok-tso. On the morning of June 5 
we took farewell of Nima Tashi and his soldiers and of 
Panchor, and rode between the hills on the left side of the 
valley down the course of the Buptsang-tsangpo. Soon 
the valley contracted to a ditch, but before long expanded 
again. On our left hand we had the main range of the 
Trans-Himalaya, which, however, did not present an im- 
posing apjK-arance, for we were always close to its foot. 
.\i times we were enveloped in a snowstorm, and at Mabie- 
tangsam-angmo, where we camped, we made haste to get 
a cover over our heads. When Little Puppy heard the 
thunder rumble for the first time in his life, he was very 
disturbed and barked with all his might, but he could not 
make out whence the .nois-c came, and he found it safest to 
fly into the tent and hide himself Ix'hind my bed-head. 

June 6. Hail and snow! The whole country is hidden 
under newly fallen snow, as far as we can see. Is June to 
be reckoned among the winter months? We have already 
had nine of them. It seems as though summer were 
missed out this year and we were approaching another 
winter. But the precipitation is welcome to the nomads, 
for it promotes the growth of fresh grass. We march 
sometimes on the top, sometimes at the foot of a lofty 
erosion terrace 80 to 100 feet high, which is a characteristic 
feature in this large valley. Geese, wild asses, Goa ante- 
lopes, and fo.xes arc ever>'^vhere. A sharp bend in the 
river forces us to the north-north-east for a time, and the 
valley is again narrow and picturesque. At Tuta, which 
l)elongs to Bongba-tsaruk. we encamp close by the 
Buptsang-tsangpo, where the wild-geese swim with their 
yellow chicks in the clear water. 

Eighteen degrees of frost on the night of June 7. Yet 
the day was fine, and tlies, gnats, and other insects were more 
numerous than before. As on the two preceding days 
v.e crossed several small affiuents from the Trans-Himalaya. 
The Buptsang valley e.xpanded more and more, and at 







I '! 

kn^th became 13 miles broad. We encamped in sight 
the Tarok-tso, on a level plain alxiut 16 feet above thi 
surface of the lake, and with two nomad tents as ou 
neare'^t ncighlxours. The height here \.as 15,197 feet. 

Our guides were the pleasantcst and most complacen 
we had ever had, our movements were not controllec 
by chiefs and soldiers, and Karma Puntso's camp was fa 
awriy — we might have travelled wherever we liked. Bu 
the Buptsang tsangpo and the Tarok-tso were the mos 
interesting geographical features in Bongba, and now W( 
saw the lake close in front of us. 

Our plan was to make on June 8 for Lunkar-gompa 
which was seen perched on its hill with a view over th( 
lake. But it was not to Ix', for at six o'clock Gova Pens; 
arrived on horseback accompanied by two servants. H( 
as dressed in a bku handsome cloak, looked about fifty 
live years old, and greeted us in a kind and friendly manner 
After a while came half a dozen more horsemen — evidentl; 
we were held up again. Gova Pensa asked us to remair 
where we were for the day, for Gova Parvang, the distric 
chief of Tarok-shung, would come in the aftcrr.oon. H( 
said it was impossible to sec Lunkar-gompa, for both th( 
head lamas, with most of the other twenty monks, wen 
gone two days before to Kang-rinpoche, and had left th( 
temple gates locked. Only four nuns and two monks hac 
been left behind. Of Abdul Kerim's party he only knev 
that they had met Gova Parvang, but did not know when 
they were now. 

Gova Parvang did not put in an appearance, but sen 
instead his lieutenant, old Yamba, and seventeen othei 
unarmed men to my tent. Yamba had orders not to let u: 
go to Tabie-tsaka if he valued his head. But he added tha 
if we went there of our own accord and with our own horse: 
he could not stop us. but yaks and provisions would notb( 
supj)lie(l, and the nomads had orders to avoid us like thi 
plague. Would we, on the other hand, go up a valle) 
which <Ji)ened out to the south-south-west by which w( 
could reach Tuksum in seven davs over the Lungnak-la 
:!v \'. i;t;iu Ki tir. iiifi- v;iK^, vVuUiu seii U5 proviSions, anc 
provide us with guides. Or if we would go over th( 



Lunkar-la north-westwards to Sclipuk, he would also do 
his best to serve us. He advised us to take the latter 
route, for he had been present when Gova Parvang forced 
Abdul Kerim to take the direct road to Selipuk between 
the Tarok-tso and Tabie-tsaka. We had, then, three 
different routes to choose from, which led over the blank 
space on the map of Tibet, where there arc no otb '• 
black lines but the meridians and parallels and the word 
"Unexplored." I did not take a minute to choose; the 
middle road over the Lunkar-la was naturally the most 
desirable, for I knew that it would yield me most details to 
complete my knowledf];e of the intricate orography of the 
Trans-Himalaya. On the morning of June 9 we hastily 
concluded our business, obtained yaks and guides, bought 
barley, rice, and Isamba, took farewell of the chiefs of 
Bong! i-tarok, and steered our course direct to the temple. 
We , issed several tent villages, for the country is densely 
peopled; at the foot of the mountain, on the left, a warm 
spring rises out of the ground. Below the monastery hill 
stand twenty small white stone cabins, each with a red 
frieze under the eaves and a small quadrangular yard. In 
front of the village are two chhortcns (Illustrations 359, 366), 
behind which two women with their children were hiding. 
While the caravan continued uj) the Lunkar valley, I, with 
Lobsang and Kutus, ascended the porphyry hill to the 
temple, which is surrounded by a quadrangular wall. Some 
savage dogs rushed upon us and snapped at Little Puppy, 
but there was no other sign of life. We went into the 
court and found the temple door closed, and fastened with 
a great iron lock. As I was sketching a panorama of the 
great l)eautiful lake and its wreath of mountains, si.x men 
came up and told us in an angry voice to go away. I rose 
up, went straight to the nearest of them, and, pointing; to 
the path down to the village, told them that if they did .not 
immediately make off they must put up with the conse- 
quences. They turned round meekly without saying a 

The lake stretches from north, 26° W., to north, 57° E., 
but extends farther custwards hidden behind a mountain. 
To the north-north-cast two rocky isle'.s are seen near the 




i I 




northern shore. To the north-cast the Buptsang-tsangpo 
enters a bay, and in the far distance in the same direction 
our old Sha-kan<,'sham appears. The water of the Tarok-tso 
is said to he sweet, but I had no opportunity of confirming 
this statement. If it is correct, the lake must have a sub- 
terranean outlet to the Tabie-tsaka lying to the north, 
though a small mountain offshoot lies between the two 

We left the small inhospitable monastery and a couple 
of small white and red houses, where the nuns have their 
cells, and soon rejoined our men in the Lunkar valley. 

In the night the temperature was above freezing-point 
for the first time. Our i)ath ascended steeply to the 
south-west and south, and in three hours we were at the 
streamer-decked cairn on the Lunkar-la, where the height 
was 18,274 feet. From a height to the north-east of the 
pass the Tarok-tso lies below the spectator as on a map, 
and in the north from 20° to 26° E. is seen the white an'^ 
yellow saline depression of Tabie-tsaka, renowned through 
out Tibet. At Goang-shung we got three new guides, 
with four yaks, who took us to the bank of the Gyenor- or 
Goang-tsangpo — a small river which, coming from the 
mountain Kapta in the south-east, falls into the Poru-tso. 
To the west rises a chain of mighty snowy peaks. On the 
morning of June 12, after 8.8 degrees of frost, the stream 
was covered with a third of an inch of ice, and I missed 
the pleasant ri{)i)ling sound of the evening. But the ice 
broke up in the sunshine and rattled down in large flakes. 
We were conducted still to the south-west; on the next 
day when we encamped on the lake shore the direction 
was nearer west. From camp 428 (17,067 feet) we had a 
fine view over the small take Poru-tso, also called Yeke-tso 
because it is situated in the district Bongba-yeke, the 
westernmost in the large province of Bongba, which is 
under the control of Karma Puntso. To the west of it 
follows Kigi-hloma or Rigi-changmo, which is subject to 
Ngari-karpun, as the Garpun of Gartok is called here. 
Puru-tso is drying up ; the highest shore-line lies 354 feet 
above the prcM^^nl level of the lake. The water is not fit 
for drinking, but. curiously enough, it still contains fish. 

;-J. >>iN\'.l Ni.l Kl'.l i\.' Ill- l"ili'i\lk- ■'% ll'iK-l I'. \i K. 


'Mh Ot "l K II' 'F-l - "N I 111 W \ . I " K \Mll \ I -1 N X'.l ■> i I . 1 . 



'I il 

it! '• 






An extremely disagreeable odour rises from the l)cach. 
The lake stretches from north-cast to south-west. 

On June 14 we rode westwards and crossed the broad 
valley watered by the Nyapchu-tsangpo, which, descending 
from the Men-la due south, falls into the Poru-tso. The 
Men la, a day's journey off, is a pass in a longitudinal 
valley between two of the ranges of the Trans-Himalaya. 
Over its threshold a road runs to Shamsang on the upper 
Tsangpo. A day was sj)ent on .he bank, of the Surle- 
tsangpo, which also flows to the Poru-tso, and in the 
evening carried quite 210 cubic feet of water per second. 

Here I was waited on by Gova Pundar of Rigi-hloma, 
an elderly man, who gave me a kadakh, butter, meal, and 
milk, and sold us all the provisions we required for several 
days, and his goodwill knew no bounds. The people in 
this part of Tibet were always very friendly disposed. In 
the Lob country the natives called me Padishahim or 
"Your Majesty," a title that more than satisfied my 
ambition; but in Bongba and Rigi I was often called 
Rinpoche or "Your Holiness," which I thought a little 
too strong. But they meant well, and I accepted their 
civilities as the most natural thing in the world. Gova 
Pundar knew every inch of his country, and I pumi)ed him 
thoroughly. Among other interesting details, he informed 
me that thirteen days' journey to the north, near the 
Lakkor-tso, was a monastery Marmik-gompa, a dependency 
of Sera, with twenty-five monks and four nuns. In the year 
1901 I had been at the Lakkor-tso, and had heard the blast 
of the shell-horn at the other side of a ridge, but I did not 
enjoy the same freedom as now, and could not visit the 

We rode on the i6th in a snowstorm, with fresh men 
and yaks, through the picturesque Surle valley, and on the 
17th over stony moss-grown slopes to the pass Sur-Ia or 
Sur-la-Kemi-la, 19,134 feet high, which, like the Lunkar-la, 
is of the second order, for it is a divide between the Poru- 
tso and the Shovo-tso. Before reaching the actual pass we 
had a striking view west-south-west over a world of firn- 
fields, peaks clothed with eternal snow, and glaciers, one ot 
which, of large dimensions and bluish-green m front, with 







numerous marines and rivulets, descends to the Surle 
river. Here grey granite predominates; wild yaks are 
everywhere; the country is barren and of a high alpine 
character. On the other side of the Sur-la the ground 
descends rapidly among (juantities of medium-sized granite 

At camp 431 we were, then, in the district Rigi- 
changma. When we went on farther down the valley 
from the pass on June 18, we suddenly heard wild yells 
from a whole choir of four large and si.x small wolves, 
which were strolling along a slo{)e immediately to the left 
of the path. They were greyish-yellow, and seemed 
hungry anvl in a very vicious humour. Takkar rushed 
heedlessly at them, but they faced him, and he thought it 
better to turn back. They showed no signs of fear, but 
held their ground even when we threw stones at them. 
At that moment two horsemen with weapons and red hats 
came down from the Sur-Ia. They were pursuivants sent 
out in advance to Selipuk to make preparations for the 
arrival of the set puns, or gold commissioners. These 
gentlemen arc sent annually from Lhasa to Tok-jalung, 
and their journey is burdensome to the nomads, for they 
exact pack animals and food without payment. They take 
the road north of the Teri-nam-tso and Tabie-tsaka, which 
is one of Tibet's great arteries. It is called the Ser-lam, 
or the "gold road." 

Over a small saddle we came to the Pcdang-tsangpo's 
valley, 6^ miles broad, which starts from the Trans- 
Himalavan pass Pedang-la, and runs almost due north. 
Camp ^7,2 was pitched on the river bank in a place quite 
devoid of life. Our guides wished to turn back with their 
yaks, but were persuaded to accompany us to the nearest 
tent village. What could the Tibetans be thinking of? 
They left us without the slightest supervision, and we 
enjoyed more freedom than ever before. We could now 
have' travelled anywhere we liked, eastwards to Tabie-tsaka 
or southwards over the Trans-Himalaya; but the lakes in 
the nurth had most attraction f;'r me, and wc should have 
to cross the lofty mountains in the south at some time. 



On June 19 \vc proceeded north-north-cast down the 
Pedanp-tsangpo's gently declining valley, sometimes near, 
sometimes at a distance from, the fairly large river. On 
the right was the ridge of the Sur-Ia with its snowy sum- 
mits and small glacier tongues, and far in the north was 
seen a huge crest called Ganglung-gangri, a prolongation 
of the Sur-la. Wc found that this colossal range, like its 
eastern and western neighbours, runs from north-north- 
west to south-south-east, and that the orographical con- 
figuration is totally unlike the scheme set forth by 
Hodgson, Atkinson, Saunders, and Burrard, for these 
gentlemen, quite hypothctically, inserted a single chain 
parallel to the upper Brahmaputra. In reality one wanders 
here in a labyrinth of mountain ranges, one and all only 
parts of the gigantic system of the Trans-Himalaya. 

The road was excellent, and after a long ride we set up 
our two tents on the bank of a glacier stream while snow 
squalls and showers of pelting rain came down alternately. 
Here we had to stay a day, that the genial nomads of the 
neighbourhood might send for the district chief; for we 
had nothing to eat, but had to buy whatever we could get. 
He came, and we bought provisions for 50 rupees, and 
gave him 20 for his kindness. Our treasury was almost 
empty, and I looked forward with trembK''^; to the time 
when we should be obliged, like wandering Jews, to sell 
vntches, revolvers, and horses to gain a livelihood. For 
here, in Rigi-changma, no one liad heard of .^bdul Kerim 
and his men. We could not tell what had happened. Had 







! r 11 

Id i: 




he gone quite off his hiad? He had 25CX3 rupees with 
him; had he decamped, or had he bx-'en robfx;d? A Icttei 
was dtspatrhtd to (iova Parvang saying that if he did nol 
get news of thim in a week he would have all the Deva 
shung and the Mandarins atx^ut his ears. At any rate wc 
had made a splendid journey through unknown country, 
and now we must make our way to the Shovo tso wc had 
long heard spoken of. Properly we ought to have gone 
over the Pedang range on the west direct to Selipuk, but 
it was not difficult to talk over the Gova, and on June 21 
he had fresh yaks and guides ready. The latter were a 
young man and a lx)y ten years old in a blue sheepskin. 
With these we could have gone ofT anywhere, but I was 
tired and longed to get home. 'I'he valley of the Pedang- 
tsangpo took us farther to the north. It is unusual to find 
in Tibet such a great Ifingitudinal valley running north 
and south, for they lie almost always east and west, and 
produce the [)eculiar parallelism so characteristic of the 
country. We passed si.xteen tents, and near the last wc 
crossed the Pedang-tsangpo, which runs to the Shovotso 
by a more easterly course. Lobsang caused great amuse- 
ment when he was attacked by a furious dog, and, having 
no stones, threw his bright sheath-knife at him; he missed, 
but the dog took the knife in his teeth and ran of! to his 
master's tent. 

Then we rode up to the Abuk-la pass, with a view both 
magnificent and instructive. The bluish-green Shovo-tso is, 
like Poru-tso, longest from north-cast to south-west, and i« 
surrounded by huge mountains, some of them with eternal 
snow. To the north, 30° E., wc sec the pass Ka-la over 
which the "gold road " runs. The name Ka-la occurs on 
a map of one of Montgomerie's pundits by a single iso- 
lated mountain summit. In reality the Ka-la is the very 
opposite of a mountain summit, namely, a depression or 
saddle in a mountain range. We encamped on the 
southern shore of the Shovo-tso, which lies at an absolute 
height of 15,696 feet. The water is salt, and round the 
shore are seen old shore-lines of about the same height as 
at Poru-tso. 

June 22. W'heh we left the western extremity of the 

I 1. WM "I ( II..K' HI I \KIM. I.I W I ..| nil I'klMH .M M 1 ,ri K 

.;;^. l.WMi'l (ill. Ki 111 .IN H.lK>MIMK. 


V- 4 





Shovo tso wc saw a larpe caravan of yaks ami ^horp which 
sccmid to have thi- s;imc drstination as ourselves. Lob 
sang found out that the jn-ople were ttikoras or i)ilf,'rims 
on the way to Kan>^ rinixx-hi', and that >he owner of the 
caravan was the (iovernor of Chokchu, Sonam N'gurbu 
(Illustration 372). We left then. Khind and rode up to 
the i)ass Tela matala. A horseman approached us at a 
f,'allop, and made signs to us to halt. We waited for 
him, all on the tip-t<K' of exjuctation, for we made sure 
that he brought us a mes>age from Alxlul Kerim. 
Hah ! it was only one of vSonam Xgurbu's soldiers who 
wanted to ask our guides if a spring on the way to 
Selipuk had any water in it this year. Sonam Xgurbu's 
caravan had come from Tal)ie tsaka and had not heard 
a word of our men. It seemed as though the earth had 
swallowed them up. My orders had Ix-en that, whate\«r 
else they did, they should wait for us on the Buptsang- 
tsangpo. Doubtless they had been plundered by robbers; 
and we had only 80 rujxes left. I blessed the hour 
when I decided to keep myself all the maps, notes, 
sketches, and rock s|X'cimens when we parted at Kamlja 
Tsenam's tent. Wc could obtain money by selling some 
valuables, and from Selipuk I could send a courier to 
Thakur Jai Chand in Gartok. 

From Tela-mata la we have again a striking view over 
almost all the Sur-la range and over the mountainous 
region of Lavar-gangri to the south of Selipuk. With 
every day's march tiie orogray)hicaI conficuration becomes 
clearer, and soon the leading features of the blank space 
will be nearly all ascertained. 

The temperature again sank at the midsummer season 
below freezing-point, the reading on June 23 being 25.9°. 
We rode through a small steep valley up to the Tayep- 
parvala (17,887 feet). The ground was so honeycombed 
with mouse-holes that the horses trod on two or three at 
once. Little Puppy caught a couple of field-mice by the 
neck, and we did not pity them. .\ marmot which had 
ventured too far from its hole almost fell into Takkar's 
clutches, but just saved himself in time. At the pass we 
made the usual halt for observations, and I drew a pane- 






I I 


t : 

I it 

rama of the surroundings. Between north and north-west 
the horizon is far distant and the country level; only to the 
north, 5° W'., aj)pears a small snowcapped dome, hut not 
another gan^ri. The view over Nganglaring-tso, just Ix-low, 
is grand, all the mountains in shades of pink, and the water 
of a deep ultramarine. A large part of its eastern half is 
occupied by a large island, a mountain mass rising out of 
the water with a contour as irregular as that of the lake 
itself, all promontories, bays, and capes. To the north- 
west lie three small islands. No European had ever seen 
Nganglaring tso before, nor any pundit. But the pundit 
sent l)y Montgomerie in 1867 to Tok-jalung obtained 
some hazy information atout the district "Shellifuk" and 
the great lake "(ihalaring-tso," which was afterwards 
inserted in maps of Tilx,'t. The form given by the p-mdit 
to the lake, namely, an egg-shape with the longer axis from 
north to south, does not at all correspond to the reality; 
for the lake stretches east and west, and its contour could 
not be more irregidar than it is. The pundit places a 
small island in the northern half, and adds the legend 
"Monastery on Island." In reality has at 
least four islands, but not a single monastery. 

On Midsummer Day we encamped by the roaring surf 
(15,577 feet), anil on the 25th we crossed the last hilly moun- 
tain spur which still separated us from the extensive 
plain of Selipuk. From its height we again saw the great 
chain of Sur-la, and to the south the Trans-Himalaya with 
si.xty-three snowy peaks, regular as the teeth of a saw. On 
the 26th we rode over level country to the west-north-west. 
On the plain two mounted Tibetans were pursuing a wild 
ass, which was wounded in the near foreleg and had four 
dogs at his heels. The dogs did not bite him, but tried 
to chase the animal in a certain direction. Time after 
time the men were close on the game and dismounted; 
they did not shoot, but threw up dust wit'i their hands to 
frighten the wild ass and drive him as near as possible to 
their tent, that they might not have to carry the meat far 
(Illustration 356). 

Camp 43g was pitched on the bank of the river 
Sumdang tsaiigpu, which flovv^. into the Nganglaring-tso 

'^r I 




■ i- 

ikcl. Ik - \t\ tin- Authiir. 

'. k 


I 1 








without joining the rivers Lavar-tsangpo and Aong-tsang- 
po, farther west, which unite and enter the lake's most 
western bounds. Here Lobsang caught a wolf cub, a small 
wild rogue, w ' ich much interested Takkar. But Takkar 
had a great ispcct for his heredifary enemy and ven- 
tured to bite only his tail. Afterwards he Ixcame bolder, 
and when the little creature found himself in a desperate 
situation, he threw himself into the river to swim over 
to the other side. Then Takkar gave a yell, _ jumped 
in and caught the cub, thrust him down with his paws, 
seized him with his teeth and brought him to land, where he 
ate every bit of him. 

We followed the river upwards on June 27 and encamped 
again on its bank opposite the monastery Selipuk-gompa 
(15,696 feet), the abbot of which, a Kanpo-lama, Jamtse 
Singe, was also chief of the district in secular alTai: > (Illus- 
trations 356, 374, 369. 340- Neither he nor any one else 
had heard anything of Abdul Kerim, but he was so good 
as to search in'his holy books to fmd out where our men were, 
and he came to the conclusion that they were somewhere to 
the south, and that in twenty days we should either meet them 
or hear some reliable news of th'm. 

On June 28, at half-past nine in the evening, the 
country was shaken by an earthquake — the only one I ever 
experienced in Tibet. However, it had no effect on the 
good relations between mo and the monks and Sonam 
Ngurbu, the Governor (Illustrations 326, 375), who was also 
a guest in the monastery, and had a high lama from Chokchu 
(Illustration 355) in his party. The Governor gave u.^ as 
much tsamba, rice, and sugar as would at a pinch last us 
till we came to Tokchcn, and he received a watch in ex- 
change. Of money we had only a few rupees left. I had 
never been in such straits before. If I ever meet Abdul 
Kerim again, I thought, he shall get what he deserves and 
a little more. 

When we set up our tents on the last day of June on the 

Rartse plain, south of Selipuk, Lobsang announced at 

dusk that four men and four mules wore coming to the 

camo. They were Abdul Kerim, Sedik, Gaffar, and a 

.,'^ - •' . < • _^ <••,. 1 If 1 

iioctan. Our caravan basi'ii came ingnitntu ana cuiiiubeu 

> i 









to my tent, anrl I thought it better that he should give an 
account of his si.'\var(l--lii|i before I [)a>sefl sentence on 
him. He rejjorted that they had conn' to the ;nted 

rendezvous at the proper time, but there he had hard 

pressed bv six govas -(jo\a Parvant; amonj,' t in. vvho 
took the lead, and ordered tluni to leave the place at once 
and go on to the Tarok tso. \s they had no passport from 
Lhasa, ihiy could expect no mercy, he said. So they 
betook themselves to the northern sliore of the Tarok tso, 
where they waited fourteen days, as the grazing was good 
and no one interfered with thrm. They heard contra- 
dictory reports about us. At 'ength a nomad died on the 
lake shore, and a monk from Lunkar-gomjja was summoned 
tf) his tent to read the prayers for the dead. They met this 
man, and he said that we had passed the monastery 
nine days previously. Then they packed up all their Ix;- 
longing-, intending to hurry after us next morning. But --halers had come in the night and stolen my grty Tikze 
horse and a mule from Saka dzong. This event cost 
them three days, but they never recovered the stolen 
animals. While Suen, .Abdullah, AImIuI Rasak, and Sonam 
Kunchuk followed slowly, the three others made forced 
marches westwards, and now at last they were here and had 
all our cash with them. Abdul Kerim escaped with a slight 
reprimand, but I afterwards heard the other men badger- 
ing him. We found the others in Kyangrang, and >o the 
whole strength of the company, thirteen men, was complete 
when, on July 8, we crossed the pass Ding la (Illustration 
213), 19,308 feet high, the loftiest pass we had crossed in 
all this journey in Tibet, and on past the small lake Argok- 
tso, which lie? in the basin of the Aong-tsang{)o ; anci on 
July 12 we crossed the Surngela (17,310 feet). Two 
days later wc came to Tokchen, where another political 
entanglement detained us nine days. But I cannot stay 
to give an account of it, for I reached the limit of the 
space allowed mc at Chapter LXIV, and my publisher is 




On the map of the Jesuits, now two hundred years old 
(D'Anville, 1733) (Map 2), a series of mountains runs 
on the north side of the upjier Brahmaputra, Ix'urinf,' 
from cast to west the followini^ names: Vouc, Larkin, 
Tchimouran Coiran, Tchompa, Lo{), Tchour, Takra concki, 
Kentaissc (Kaikis) Latatsi, etc. These mountains and 
ranges have never Ix'en transferred to modern maps of 
Tilx't, probably Ix'cause geogra[)hers regarded the material 
collected by trained Tilxtans as too unreliable and in- 
defmite. Yet these chains of mountains are nothing else 
but the Trans-Himalaya, though the representation Ls confused 
and inexact. 

When Brian Hodgson in his map of southern Tibet 
(Selections from the Records of the Government of Benf^al, 
Xo. x.xvii), here reproduced in facsimile (Map 3), drew 
a huge unbroken chain north of, and parallel to, the 
Tsangpo, he to(jk a step which could only be based on the 
Jesuits' map and the data he received in the year 1843 from 
the Maharaja of Xepal. Xo doubt lofty mountains existed 
to the north of the Tsangpo — that was known to the Jesuits 
even in the time of Kang Hi. I'ut Hodgson's hyj)othetical 
Xycnchhen-thangla (Trans-Himalaya), which he looks upon 
as a prolongation of the Karakorum, ancl the natural 
boundary Ixtwcen northern and southern Tibet, is by no 
means an original conce[)tion, and is no advance on previous 
knowledge, or, more correctly, theory. For already, in the 1840, Dufour had inserted a similar huge uninterrupted 
chain north of, and parallel to, the Tsangpo, on the map 

VOL. II 401 2 II 


'G. , 


i A 

I '; 

I 1 




which illustrates the famous d'jscription of the travels 
of the La/arist missionary, Father Hue (Illustration 381) 
~ Souvruirs d'un Voyiii:^c dans la Tartaric, Ic Thibet el la 
Chinr, 1844-46. Dufour's map is even Ix'tter than 
Hodi^son's, for he has adopted from the Jesuits' map a 
northern affluent to the Tsanj^'po, passini^ throuijh the 
great ranj^e, which, like the Ji'suits, he calls Mts. Koiran. 

Hue and Cialxt were j)r()t)ahly the first Europeans to 
cross the Trans-Himalaya, and one wonders where they 
made the passat^e. Proljably by the Shan<;-shunf^ la alonj^ 
the Mon,!:;olian pilp;rim road from Kukunnr and Tsaidam 
to Lhasa. It is vain to seek any infurmation on the 
subject in Hue's famous Ixiok. During the two years 
Hue stayed in Macaf) he worked up the scanty notes he had 
made on his journey. He mentions Hurkhan Hota. Shuga, 
and Tangla, and also the large village Xakchu, where 
the caravans exchange their camels for yaks, but he savs 
not a \\"rd alK)Ut the pass by which he crossed one of the 
mightiest mountain sy>t(ms of the world. He says, 
indeed, that he went over a colossal mountain range, and 
as its position agreed with that of the Mts. Koiran of 
Dufour and the Jesuits, he ado;)ts this name, which he 
certainly had never heard on his journey, and which prob- 
ably was changed on its way from Tifx^t to the Jesuits' note- 
books in I'ekin. All he has to say of his journey over the 
Trans-Himalaya is contained in the following sentences: 
"La route cjui conduit de Xa-Ptchu a Lha-Ssa est, en 
general, rocailleuse et trcs-fatigante. Quand on arrive 
a la chaine dcs monts Koiran, elle est d'unc difficulte 
extreme" (ii. p. 241). 

Another attempt to represent the course of the Trans 
Himalaya was made by Trelawney Saunders in his map of 
Tibet (Map 6), which is found in Markham's Narratives 
of the Mission of Grori^r Bof:;k to Tibet, and of the Journey 
of Thomas Manning to Lhasa (London, iSjg), and in 
Edwin T. Atkinson's The Himalayan Districts of the North- 
Westrrn Provinces of India (.Mlahabad, 1S82). Like Dufour 
and Hodgson, Saunders draws a huge continuous chain 
iill ilirough Tibet. Fcif tile VvusterM j^arts, north of 
Manasarowar, and for the eastern, south of Tengri-nor. he 




bus relied on the cartography of the pundits; the rest, 
l)ft\vtrn 82° and S<)k° E. lon^., is partly a reproduction of 
the Jesuits' map, partly pure fancy, and has not the 
remotest resemblance to the reality, as will he api)ar(nt 
from a comi)ari.M)n of Saunders' map with mine. I will 
only point out that the Trans-Himalaya con.-ists not of 
one chain but of many, and that the source of the Chaktak- 
tsang}>o lies to the south, not to the north of the princii)al 
one. All the central and largest part of the system, 
which I exploret' is therefore (juite incorrect on Saunders' 

In the year 1867 Colonel Mont^'omerie (Illustration 
380) sent out three [jundits for the purpose of com- 
piling,' a ma]) of the country north of Manasarowar. One 
of them was the incomparable and wonderful Nain Sinj^, 
another was the man who was at \'iachan prevented 
from disco\erinf^ the source of the Indus. On their 
way to Tok jalung they crossed the Trans-Himalaya 
at the Jukti-la, which they called Guf^'ti-la, assij^minf? 
to it a heij,'ht of 19,500 feet: I found its height was 
ig,o7o feet. Mr. Calvert crossed the same pass a year 
before me. On their return they crossed the Trans- 
Himalaya by followin<^ the eastern branch of the Indus 
down to where it breaks throu<,'h the range and unites 
with the Gartok branch. 

A pundit also went between Manasarowar and Tok- 
jalung, past the Kuldap-tso — a name and lake I sought for 
east and west in vain, but I will not therefore deny its exist- 
ence. Moreover, of this pundit's route I have no precise 
details. It seems likely that he crossed the Trans-Ihmalaya 
by a pass called Sar lung. 

On January 8, 1872, one of Montgomerie's explorers, 
a young trained Tilx;tan, travelled over the Trans-Himalaya 
by the Khalamba-la, 17,200 feet high. In Markham's 
account of this journey it is said that he returned across 
the mountains by the Dhok la, though the actual water- 
parting pass he came to was much more probably the 
Dam-largen-la. This pass was crossed the following year 
(1873) by Xain Sing on his famous journey from Leh to 
Lhasa, which is described so conscientiously by Colonel 





Sir Henry Trotter. N'ain Sin^' ;issi,i,'ns to Damlangrcn-la 
a height of i6,goo feet. 

The great |)un(lit .\. K., or Krishna, who contends 
with Xain Sing for the foremo>t i)Iaee, crossed the most 
easterly fiarts of thi- Trans -Himalaya on his journey in 
1 88 1, and more jjrobahly hy tlie pass Shiar gang la than 
the Xulj kong la, as I have already suggested; hut from his 
map it is ditlicult to decide whether the Shiar-gang-la is a 
dividing pass of the first rank or not. In any case, it is situ- 
ated on the chain which forms the watershed Ix'lween 
the Salwin and the Brahmaputra, and is undoubtedly an 
immediate continuation of the Xien-chen-tang-Ia, or Trans- 
Himalaya. A similar assumjHion is atx) made hy Colonel 
S. G. Hurrard in his and Hayden's admirable work, A Sketch 
of the Gco'^raphy aud Gcolof^y of the Ilitnahiya Mountains 
ami Tibet (Calcutta, 1907). On map .wii in this work 
Burrard has, fjuite rightly in my opinion, inserted the 
f)r()longation of the range, though we have no sure data 
about its course. 

Thii we find that after P'ather Hue several of Mont- 
gomerie s and Trotter's pundits, as well as Mr. Calvert in 
the year iqo6, crossed the Trans Himalaya in Tibet. So 
far as I know, there are only two more names to Ik- added 
to these — namely, Littledale, who on his lx)ld journey in 
1894-95 passecl over the system by the pass Curing la 
(19,587 feet), and Count de Lesdain, who crossed it by 
the Khalamba-la in 1905. Both describe the magnifi- 
cent spectacle Xienchen-tang-la presents from Tengri-nor, 
but the latter added nothing to our knowledge of the 
Trans- Himalaya, for he made use of the same pass, the 
Khalam!)a-la, as Montgomerie's pundit. In his narrative, 
Voyat^e an Thibet, par la Mongolic de Pekin aux hides, he 
mentions not a single pass, much less its name. But he 
followed the western shore of Tengri-nor. and he says 
(]). 340): "Des massifs de montagnes tres durs ct absolu- 
ment cnchevetrcs formaient un obstacle insurmontable. 
En conse(iuence, je resolus de suivre Ic premier cours 
d'eau, dont la direction ferait presumer au'il se divi^eait 
vers le Brahmapoutra. C'est ainsi cjue nous chemi names 
plusieurs jours en suivant les bords d'une riviere sans 

T r. 



1 1 

1 f 


Ji ( 


)! { 

li t 






ct'sse grossissanti', a[)ptIcT Chan^^-chu. . . ." This river is 
the Shangchu, which comes from the Khalamha-la. 

Two Frenchmen and two Kngii^hmen have, then, 
crossed the Trans-Himalaya Ixfore me, Ixsides half a 
dozen pundits. Farther west in F.nghsh territory in- 
numerable Ftiropeans have passed over the system, espe- 
cially by the Chang la, where I surmounted it three times. 
Between the Indus and the Panggongtso I travelled over 
the system on Xovemlxr 22, 1907, by the easy pass 

An extraordinarily valuable contribution to the know- 
ledge of the Trans Himalaya was afforded us by Ryder 
and Wood on their remarkalile journey u[) the Brahma- 
putra in the year 1904. They had no oi)portunity of 
crossing the system, or even of penetrating a day's journey 
into the southern transverse valleys, Imt they took Ixanngs 
of all the .summits visible from their route. And some 
of these, particularly Lunpo-gangri, arc among the very 
highest which, under a mantle of eternal snow, rise up 
from the Trans-Himalaya. The absolutely highest is, 
according to Ryder, 23,255 feet, and is therefore little 
inferior to Nien-chen-tang la with its 23,900 feet. Ryder 
and Burrard took it for granted that these summits stood 
on a single continuous range, which they represent on their 
map as the northern watershed of the Brahmaputra. In 
his te.xt (p. 95), however, Burrard rightly points out that 
this chain, which he calls "the Kailas Range," is not the 
watershed, for in some places it is broken through by 
affluents from the north. Burrard commits the same 
mistake as Dufour, Hodgson, Saunders, and Atkinson, 
in assur"ing the existence of a single continuous range to 
the north of the Tsangpo. I pondered much myself over 
this problem, and on a general map of the ranges of Tibet 
(1905) I inserted two ranges north of the Tsangpo, a 
conception in accordance with F. Grenard's in his Carte 
de VAsie Centrale of the year 1899. 

A history of geographical exploration in a region so 
little known as the 1:'ns-Himalava must naturally be 
exceeding short and meagre. With all my researches I 
have not been able to discover any other predecessors 




than those alrrady mrntionid — that is, in those parts of 
thi" systt m which Vw within the Ijound-. of Tilx-t —and not 
a sin^it' one in the central re^'ions of the 'lYans Himalaya. 
That siK h an extensive region as southern Tilxt has U'en 
quite unknown till now. though it lies close to the Indian 
fronti( r, h.i> given ri>e to much riasonal)le astonishment, 
and in niaiiy < irdes argument^ and i)roofs, Itased on more or 
less apocryphal records and vague hypotheses, have been 
lalxjriously sought (nit to prove that my discoveries have 
not the f)riority claimed for them. The maps I have 
re{)roduced in fac-imile, when carefully compared with 
my (.wn maj)s, render any discussion on my part quite 

I cannot, however, pass ovit in silence an insinuation 
that the discoveries I have matle arc to he found indicatnl 
on the famous wall-maps in the Doge's Palace at Venice 
The Chief Librarian of the Royal Library in Stockholm. 
Dr. E. W. Dahlgren. writes in a letter to me: "Only the 
grossest ignorance and silliness can fmd on these maps 
traces of any discoveries {)revious to yours." Before my 
return home Professor Mittag-Lelller, Director of the mathe- 
matical school in the University of Stockholm, had sent 
for photographs of these maps with a very detailed descrip- 
tion, and he has kindly [)laced this material at my disposal. 
This lx)ok is not the {)lace in which to publish it, and. 
besides, the following statement which Dr. Dahlgren has 
obligingly drawn up at my reciuest makes all further 
comment unnecessary : 

The Wall-Maps in the Sala dello Scudo, in the Doge's 
Palace at Venice 

These maps, four in number, were constructed by the noted 
cartographer Giacomo Gastaldi in the middle of the sixteenth 
century, to take the place of older maps which were destroyed by 
fire in the year 1483; at least, it may be safely assumed that two 
of them, those of Kast Asia, and Africa, are the work of Gastaldi. 

The maps represent : 

I. Aria ifom the ninuth of the Imlus eastwards lO China 
and Japan, as well as the Pacific Ocean and part of 





?5. v; 


^' , 

1:1 ' 

i i 



2. Asia from Asia Minor to India (Kashmir). 

3. Africa. 

4. Italy. 

Only maps Nos. i and 2 have any interest for Sven Hedin. 
They correspond completely with the photographs procured by 
Professor Mittag-LcfHer. 

All the maps were restored by Francisco Grisellini about the 
middle of the eighteenth century. In map No. 2 great alterations 
seem to have been made in geographical details as well as in 
the text and in the decoration. As the map extends no farther 
east than Kashmir it has, of course, no connection with Sven 
Hedin's discoveries. 

Map No. I, on the other hand, has in many essential respects 
preserved its original character. We can undoubtedly form a good 
notion of its original appearance by comparing it with the maps in 
Ramusio's work Delle Navigazioni e Viaggi (2nd Edition, Venice, 
1554) and with Gastaldi's Tenia Parte delV Asia (Venice, 1561). 
The resemblance to the former is very striking. In these maps, 
as in the wall-maps, the south is to the top. 

On all these maps there is very great confusion in the representa- 
tion of the river systems of the Ganges and the Brahmaputra. The 
mountains are drawn in at random, and even the Himalayas cannot 
be identified with complete certainty, much less the ranges of 
Central Asia. .'\s the map was chiefly designed to illustrate the 
travels of Marco Polo, it naturally gives no information about 
counUies he did not visit. e. W. Dahlgren. 

Father Hue concludes the account of his journey with 
the following remarkable words: "llais il ne suffit pas 
toujours du zele de I'ccrivain pour faire connaltre dcs 
contrces oil il n'a jamais mis le pied. Ecrire un Voyage 
en Chine aprfes quelques promenades aux factories de 
Canton et aux environs de Macao, c'cst peut-^tre s'exposer 
beaucoup a parler de chose qu'on ne connait pas sufTisam- 
ment . . . il est en general assez diflBcile de faire des 
decouvertes dans un pays sans y avoir penetr^*." 

It was v.-ith such truths in my mind that I began the 
journey described in this book, the object of which was 
that set forth by Sir Clements Markham, when in con- 
nection with LittlVhle's last journey he made the following 
statement {Geographical Journal, vol. vii. p. 4S2): "In 
the whole length from Tengri-nor to the Mariam-la pass 



1 1 

I fi 


1 1 

I' • 

f I 

I I 




no one has crop^f'd them (the Trans-Himalaya), so far as 
we know . . . and I behove nothing in Asia is of greater 
geographical importance than the exploration of this range 
of mountains." 

It is not for me to decide how far I have achieved my 
aim, but when I passed over the Trans-Himalaya for the 
eighth time at the Surnge la, I had at least the satisfaction 
of seeing all the old hyjKitheses fall down like a house of 
cards, and a new ground-plan laid down on the map 
of Asia, where before the blank patch yawned with its 
alluring "Unexplored." 

I have no space here for a complete monograph of 
the Trans-Himalaya, or, indeed, the material for it, until 
the bearings and heights of the peaks .have been worked 
out, the rock specimens identified, and a detailed map con- 
structed from the sheets I drew. It will take a couple of 
years to work up the material. I will here only communi- 
cate some general facts, and will begin by citing the passes 
of first rank as watersheds, appending the names of the 
travellers who have crossed some of them: 


Krishna, 1881 


Hue, 1845 


Nain Sing, 1873 

16,903 feet 


Littledale, 1895 

19.587 " 




Pundit, 1872 

17,200 " 


de Lcsdain, 1905 


Hcdin, 1907 

18,064 " 


Hedin. 1907 

18,284 " 



Hedin, 1907 

18.514 " 





Hedin, 1908 

19.095 " 




Hedin, 1908 

18,133 " 



Tiih AriiioK i\ 'I'liurw Cunhmh \r iiii Ml■-^Ill\ Simihn in In 
I'fi .t-i;r,.|.h l.\ llu- Rev, Mr, .M,tr\. 

•I ii 



F '1 

fl ^' 


i ) 

I :i 




















Pundit? Hedin, 1908 
Hedin, 1907 
Nain Sing, 1867 
Calvert, iyo6 
Hedin, 1907 

17,310 feet. 
17-933 " 


It has, then, been my lot to cross eight Trans Hi ma- 
hiyan passes, while seven have been crossed by other 
travellers. Seven of my passes were unknown before. 
Of the i^'.hers I have seen the Dicha-la and Men-la, while 
of the remainder I have only gathered oral information. 
The Jukti-la is the watershed between the two headwaters 
of the Indus, the Tseti-lachcn-la between the Sutlej and 
the Indus, the Surnge-la between the Sutlej and the 
Nganglaring-tso. Shiar-gang-la and Shang-shung-la lie 
on the watershed between the Salwin and the Brahma- 
putra. All the others lie on the great continental water- 
shed between the ocean and the isolated drainage of the 
plateau. It appears from the list that all the passes 
crossed before by Europeans and pundits belong to the 
eastern and western parts of the system. Between the 
Khalamba-la and the Surngc-la the Trans-Himalaya had 
not been crossed in a single line, anrl it was e.xactly 
between these two passes that the great white space was 
situated. All that was known of it was the peaks fixed by 
Ryder and Wood, and some summits seen by Nain Sing 
from the north. If the Pundit's journey between Manasa- 
rowar and Ruldap-tso be disregarded, of which I have no 
information, the interval between the Khalamba-la and the 
Jukti-la measures 590 miles, or about as far as from Lin- 
koping 10 Ilaparanda, or Injin London to Dornoch Firth. 
And between these limits lie all the passes by crossing 



' £ 





ii i; 




which I was abk- to trace the course of tlic Trans-Hima- 
laya, and provi that its known eastern and western sections 
are connected and belong to the same mountain systern, 
and that this system is one of the loftiest and mightiest in 
the world, only to be com|)ared with the Himalayas, the 
Karakorum, Arka-tag, and Kuen-lun. Iktween the Shiar- 
gang-la and Vasin. not far from the sharj) bend of the 
Indus, its length amounts to 1400 miles, Ijut if it can be 
shown that the Trans-Himalaya merges into the Hindu- 
Kush and continues along the Sal win, its length extends 
to 2500 miles. On the north and south its Ixjundaries are 
shar[) and clearly defined ; the northern is formed by the 
central lakes discovered by Xain Sing and myself, and 
the southern by the unheard-of Indus-tsangpo valley. In 
breadth it is inferior to the Himalayas, and its peaks are 
lower, but the heights of the Tran.s-Himalayan are 
considerably greater than those of the Himalayas. The 
average height of the five following Himalayan passes — 
Shar-khalcp-la, Man-da-la, She-ru-la, Xo-la and Kore- or 
Photu-la — is 16,736 feet, while the average height of my first 
five Trans-Himalayan passes is 18,400 feet. It may \)C said 
generally that the dividing passes in the Trans-IIimalaya 
of the first rank are 1600 feet higher than in the Himalayas. 
But the highest peak of the Himalayas, Mount Everest, 
with its 29,000, is 5100 feet higher than the Xicn-chen- 
tang-la, the culminating point, as far as wc know. Here- 
with is connected the different forms of relief predominating 
in the two systems; the crests of the Trans-Himalaya are 
flatter, its valleys shallower and broader, while the crests of 
the Himalayas are sharp and pointed, its valleys deep and 
much enxitxl. The former system is more compact and mas- 
sive than the latter, as we may e.xpect if we remember that 
the Himalayas are deluged by "the precipitation of the south- 
west monsoon, and that its waters have for untold thousands 
of years degraded its valleys, while the Trans-Himalaya on 
the dry plateau country receives a comparatively insignificant 
share of the monsoon rain. Were it possible to compare the 
volumes of the two systems, we should no doubt find that 
the northern is much more massive than the southern, for 
such a comparison must proceed from sea-level, and though 

|vS-.^^'>: - -■<^-Sl-^'^ -y^' 


THE r R AN S-1 1 1 MALAY A 


the Trans-Himalaya is thf narrower nf the two. its ascent 
begins from heights of 10,000 tn r6,ooo feet, from the 
Tsiingpo valley, while the Himalayas rise from sea-level 
or a few hundred feet alxne it. As a watershed the 
Trans-Himalaya occupies a higher and more important 
place than the Himalayas. In the west the Himalayas 
part the waters between the Indus and .some of its tribu- 
taries, and in the cast the system is a divide between the 
Brahmaputra and the Ganges. But every drop of water 
which falls on the Himalayas goes down to the Indian 
Ocean. On the other hand, all the central Trans-Hima- 
laya is a watershed between the Indian Ocean on the .south 
and the enclosed drainage area of the |)lateau depression 
vn the north. Only in its western .section is the Trans- 
Himalaya also a watershed between the Indus and some of 
its right-hand tril)Utaries, and in its ea.stern between the 
Salwin and Brahmaputra. Within the lK)un(laries of Tibet 
there is only one river which takes its from the northern 
flank of the Trans-Himalaya and breaks through the system 
by a transverse valley; but this river is a lion, and is called 
by the Tibetans the Lion river, the Singi-kamba or Indus. 
The Salwin also springs from the northern flank of the 
sy.stem, but finds its way to the ocean without pas.sing 
through the mountains. All the other rivers rising on the 
northern slopes, of which the Buptsang-t.sangpo and the 
Soma-tsangpo are the largest, flow into the undraincd salt 
lakes on the north. Only in the central parts of the Trans- 
Himalaya, stretching, however, over a di.stance of nearly 
600 miles, does the continental watershed coincide with the 
main axis of the system, for to the west the watershed runs 
northwards from the source of the Indus, and then west- 
wards, so as to leave the Panggong-tso within the isolated 
drainage basin of Tibet, and in the east runs northwards 
from the region between the source streams of the Salwin and 

1 have called this book Trans-Himalaya, the 
incidents and adventures described in these two volumes 
occurred in this huge mountain system lying to the north 
of the Tsangpo and in the country to the north and south 
of it. When I first crossed the dividing range at the 


- _!-' *- 


i E 





Scla-la I thought of retaining the name Hodgson had 
assigned to it, that is, Nicn-chcn-tang-la, and 1 did not 
change my mind after crossing the Chang-la-Pod-la and 
Angden-la, for these three passes lie on one and the same 
range, whicli on the scjuthern shore of Tcngri-nor is called 
Nien-chen-tang-la. After crossing the Tseti-lachen-la and 
the Jukti-la 1 supposed that these passes lay on the western 
prolongation of the Xien-chen-tang-la, and that the con- 
ception of HodgS(jn, Saunders, Atkinson, Hurrard, and 
Ryder was correct. Hut after the .second journey right 
through Tibet, and after I had cro.ssed Hongba in several 
directions and found that there was no question of a single 
continuous range, but that a whole collection of ranges 
quite indepench ' of one another existed, I perceived that 
the name Xien-tnen-tang-la, which only denotes one of all 
these ranges, could not 1k> given to the whole sy.steni. 
Equally inappropriate would be the names Lunpo-gangri, 
Kamchung-gangri, Targo-gangri, or any other local name. 
Saunders' "Gangri Mountains" I consider still _ more un- 
suitable, for every mountain in Tilx't clothed with eternal 
snow is called a .?««j?r/, and the name in this connection 
would have a meaningless sound. Xeither could I accept 
Burrard's "The Kailas Range." A name must be found 
suited to the whole of this intimately connected association 
of mountain ranges, a geographical conception which would 
leave no room for misunderstanding, and I decided to^ call 
the whole system, the connection and continuity of which I 
had succeeded in proving, the Trans-Himalaya. 

Among English geographers many have approved of 
this name and an equal number have disapproved. To 
the latter category belongs Colonel Burrard, who points 
out thai for some years back all the regions lying beyond the 
Himalayas have been called Trans-Himalayan. And in a 
letter he has lately written to me he says: 

Pupils of Montgomeric naturally ask why an old word should 
be given a new meaning when it is fX)ssible to invent any number 
of new names for newly discovered mountains. I do not see that 
it is necessary to ^ivc an important name to newly discovered 
mountains. .\ new name will become imiwrtant bttaubt- of the 
mountains to which it is attached, and your mountains would have 
rendered any new name imj>ortant. 



I iil-Hi'- 

( 1111.1111. 



04. 'liii. I, \>r Mi-MiuK-^ m Till I,\^f Kxi'miiiiiN in I'mi 


^i^-Tri -?^^i£-"^;r'^:'*'"i'lTf' 

Tv^iS^k-^^ M' 'mi^l ^ 



ir ' 






I cannot share Colonel Burrard's vii-w, for I answer that 
just IxTausc of the circumstance that MontKomcrie's pupils, 
olVicial- 1 f The Survey of India and pundits, have for tifty 
years more called the .ountry north of the Himalayas 
"The Trans Himalayan rej^ions," it was incumbent on me 
not to reject this name for the mountain system which can be 
nothing else but the Trans-Himalaya par cxcillcurr. 

To give a (juotation from the other side I will here 
reproduce an exuression oj opinion from Lord Curzon, for- 
merly Viceroy of India, whose knowledge of Asia is unsur- 
passed. In the Geographical Journal, April igcx;. he says: 

Alongside of this great distovery (Hongha and Chokchu) I would 
place the tracing for hundreds of miles and the assurance of a definite 
orographical existence to the mighty mountain palisade or scries of 
palisades to which he has, in my oi)inion very appropriately, given 
the title of the Trans-Himalaya. This range has been surmised to 
exist in its entire length for many years; it has been crossed at its 
extremities by Littk-dalc and by native surveyors. But it was 
reserved for Dr. Hedin to trace it on the spot and to place it upon 
the map in its long, unbroken, and massive significance. ... It is 
no mean addition to human knowledge that we should realize the 
assured existence of one of the greatest mountain masses in the 
world. As regards the name which Dr. Hedin has given to it, 
I will only say that the desiderata for the title of a new and 
momentous geographical discovery af){Kar to be these: (i) that the 
name should if [X)ssible be given by the {)rincipal discoverer; {2) 
that it should not be unpronounceable, unwritable, over-recondite, 
or obscure; (3) that it should if ix)ssible fx)ssess some descriptive 
value; and (4) should not violate any acknowledged canons of 
geographical nomenclature. The name Trans- Himalaya combines 
all these advantages, and it has a direct Central Asian analogy in 
the Trans-.Alai, which is a range of mountains standing in the same 
relation to the .Mai that Trans- Himalaya will do to Himalaya. I 
am not in the least impressed by the fact that the name was once 
given to another range, where its unsuitability secured its early 
extinction. .-\ny attempts to substitute another title on 'x present 
occasion will, in my opinion, be foredoomed to failure. 

My long journey backwards and forwards over the 
Trans-Himalaya cannot be regarded as more than a 
cursory and defective reconnaissance of a country hitherto 
unknown. It is easier to go to Lhasa with a force armed 











1 1 I 

to thi- tiTth, and shoot down fhi' Tiln-tans liki' pheasants 
if thi-y stand in the way, than to ( ro» Tihi-t in all dirn- 
tion> for two lorn years with four (lovirnmints and all the 
authorities of the land as opponents, twelve poor Ladakis 
as companions, and not a sin.L^le man as escort. It i> no 
merit of mine that I was lon^ able to maintain a poMtion 
which from the first seemed untenable. The same lu( ky 
star looked down, as often k'fore, on my lonely course 
through vast Asia, and it is twenty four years since I first 
took up my pilgrim stalT. I have U-en able to follow and 
lay down onlv the diief ^^eo^'raphital lines; Ix-tween my 
routes many blank s|)aces are still left, and there is sulh- 
cient detailed work for "generations of exjjlorers and travellers 
more thorou^^hly prepared and Ix-tter equipiK-d than my- 

Go, then, out into the world, thou rin.umR and sonorous 
name for one of the world .-> mightiest mountain systems, 
and find thy way into geo<,'raphical text-lxioks, and remind 
children in' the schools of the snow-crowned summits on 
the Roof of the World, among which the monsoon storms 
have sung their deafening chorus since the beginning. .\s 
long as I live, my proudest memories, like royal eagles, will 
soar round the ciild disolate crags of the Trans-Himalaya. 






Like a troop of k-gpars and knights of the road my twelve 

servants and I left Tokchen un July 24. We had stayed 

there nine davs with nothing to do lait watch the monscnm 

rain, which l' had incautiously promised the natives, pelting 

down on the hills. The authorities of the place msisted 

this time that, as wc were not furnished with a passport 

from Lhasa, wc had no right to make use of the great 

high-road to Ladak, but must turn back to the interior 

of Tibet whence wc had come. If I had not already 

had enough of the great blank, I would have agreed to 

their demand with pleasure, but I was now weary and 

longed for home, and as they refused the assistance and 

the transi)ort facilities we required, we set out on foot 

with the baggage on our last ten horses and mules. I had 

still the white horse from Kaml)a Tsenam's tent at my 

disposal. We had no escort, for the authorities wished 

to lie quite clear of blame in case they were called to 

account. Rv the holy lake, where wc followed the northern 

shore by kncjwn wavs, we at length found a tramp who offered 

to show us the way to the Totling monastery. 

In Langbo-nan I visited hastily the young abbot, as 
svmpathetic and good-natured as the year before, and at 
Chiu-gompa we met our old friend Tundup Lama, fretful, 
melancholy, and wearv of his lonely cloister life. Large 
streams now emptied their water into both lakes, and with 
a feeling of regret I left again the scene of so many precious 
memories. _ . , . 

Before we came to the monastery of Tiriapun wc had 








' I 

! 1 

to cross several of the rivers which bring their tribute 
from the Trans-Himalaya to the Sutlej. Three of them 
were enormously swollen after the continuous rains, and 
rolled their volumes of grevish-brown foaming water over 
treacherous blocks. It lx)ile(l and seethed Ixtween the 
cliffs and it carried along and overturned the slippery 
boulders. How I trembled in mortal anxiety lest the 
harvest so laboriously gathered in the last long winter should 
all be lost l)v a single false stej). 

We cam'e to the temple of Tirtapuri in pouring rain. 
Lobsang, (iulam, Kutus, Tubges, Suen, and Kunchuk 
were to accompany me hence to Simla, but Abdul Kerim 
and the other five received their pay and gratuities, and 
took their wav home to Leh through Gartok. I did not 
know the road to Simla, but on the map it seemed to 
be nearer t.ian to Kadak, and therefore I expected that my 
party would arrive first at its destination. liut this road is 
very wild and romantic, and the land is deeply excavated 
by the affluents of the Sutlej, and one might imagine that 
one had suddenly been transported to the canons of the 
Colorado. One day we marched rapidly up an ascent of 
3000 feet, and the next we went down as far, so that the 
distance was at least double as great as it api)eared on the 
map, and Abdul Kerim reached Leh long Ijeforc I \yas 
near Simla. Therefore the first news of us came from him, 
and not from myself, and in some quarters the worst fears 
were entertained for my safety. It seemed strange that 
my servants reached their home safe and sound while 
I mvself was still missing. 

We parted with floods of tears on August i , and my party 
travelled past the three monasteries, Donglx). Dava, and 
Mangnang (Illustration 382), and came to T( ling-gompa on 
the 13th, near which Father Andrade, three hundred years 
ago, lodged in the now decayed town of Tsapjirang. Here 
I'^met the Hindu doctor Mohanlal, who gave me the first 
news of the outer world. Through him I heard, with deep 
regret, of the death of King Oscar, which had occurred more 
than eight months before. Mohanlal also inforrned me 
of the growing unrest in India and of t^he anxiety my 
friends felt on rny Ihakur jai Chand liad Ixcn 


.\U I'l ri'V. 

I \Kk \K IN III- .\ I A ll"'.II. Willi I'll Ml--1"\ \i. II - IN I', 


' if 
' il 


1 I' 

'I I 

^1 . . 

1 ll 

-i^\j-^io^m "^oiMt-s^^ 




instructed by the Indian Government to spare no efforts 
to find out whether I was still living or not. He had sent 
out some Tibetan freebooters in various directions, and 
promised 50 rupees to any one who could furnish any certam 
information of my fate — this is the price he valued me at. 
Abdul Kerim had reached Gartok in the best of health, and 
was summoned to the Garpun, who exclaimed: "Your 
Sahib is a dreadful man; he will not be satisfied until I 
lose my head!" Old Hajji Nazer Shah, who had so 
conscientiously equipped my last caravan, had died the 

preceding winter. , ,. , . 1 

When we left Tokchen on July 24 we were delighted 
at the thought that we should at every step l)c nearer to 
lower country and a denser and warmer atmosphere. A 
month later we were at a greater height than at Tokchen, 
and saw the country covered with snow, and heard the nail 
patter on our dilapidated tents. But at Shipki wc again 
set them up in a garden dressed in the rich beauty of 
summer, and heard the wind murmur in the spreading 
crowns of the apricot trees. Shipki is the last village in 
Tibet. From this garden oasis begins the steep ascent 
to the Shipki-la, which is reached after attaining a height 
of six Eiffel Towers one upon another. Here we stood 
on the frontier between Tilx-t and India. I turned and 
let my eyes roam once more over these awfully desolate 
and barr n mountains where my dreams had been 
realized, and my lucky star had shed a clearer and 
more friendly light than ever before. Farewell, home of 
wild asses and antelopes, holy land of the Tashi Lama, 
of Tso-mavang and the Tsangpo, into whose mysterious 
valleys the stranger has found his way only by enduring 
two Arctic winters and by drinng a flock of refractory 
sheep! I seemed to take farewell of the best of my youth 
and the finest chapter in the story of my life. 

On August 28 we encamped in the village c. Poo 
(Illustrations 383, 384), and I spent two memorable days 
in the hospitable house of the Moravian missionaries. 
Messrs. Marx and Schnalx-1 and their amiable families 
overulnlmed me with kindness, and now I was deluged 
with news irum trie outer won;; u wa^ i!r.-_ iI=^l.<i,.^ «-» 






' p-'^N-^f ^'-'.m^-^^n^ 




■ t 

n I 

U ! 



the breakers on the coast of the ocean. I had not seen 
a European for more than two years, and I looked mysell 
like a TilK'tan footpad. But the missionaries ng.t^'cd me 
out at once in European summer clothes and set an Indian 

helmet on my head. 

A few days later we came to Kanam-gompa, where 
Alexander Csoma Korosi eighty years ago studied Lamaist 
learning as a monk, and more than any one else com- 
municated to the scholars of the West the occult mysteries 
of this religion. How silent and quiet our lite had been 
up on the expanse of Chang-tang! Now the dizzy depths 
of the valley are filled with the roar of the falling stream, 
and the thunder of the water is re-echoed from the pre- 
cipitous cliffs. How bare and scanty was the soil of Tibet, 
and now we listen daily to the whisper of mild brce7x;s 
in the deep dark coniferous forests that clothe the slopes 
of the Himalayas. • .u • 

Still lower runs the road, still warmer is the air 
Mv trusty friend, big shaggy Takkar. looks at me with 
questioning eyes. He loves not the summer's per umed 
carlands nor the vanr-ated zone of meadows. He re- 
members the free life on the open plains, he misses the 
fights with the wolves of thi wiklerness, and he dreams ot 
the land of everlasting snowstorms. One day wc saw him 
drink of a spring which poured its water across the path 
and then lie down in the cool shade of the forest. He had 
done so many times before, but we should never sec him 
repeat it. He turned and gallop d up towards lonely 
Tibet He parted with sorrow in his heart from his 
old master, I knew; but he thought he would ask the 
missionaries in Poo to send me a greeting. One morning 
he was found lying outside the gate to the court of the 
Mission-house, and, true to his old habit, he would let no 
one go in or out. He was hospitab'y received, and started 
a new life with a chain round his neck. I still receu-e 
from time to time, through Mr. Marx, greetings from 
old Takkar, who so faithfully defended my tent when 
I travelled in disguise through his own country (Ilius- 

traiion '^^'''>)- . _ j- j -iU 

In the Club des Asiatiques in Pans I once dined with 

' ■! 


}rr-jmM- ^m^^'mw 





1 1 


1 ' 







Madame Massicu, who has at complishcd so many wonder- 
ful journeys in Asia. Roland Bonaparte and Henry of 
Orlcf-ans were present, as I vividly remembered when on 
SeptemlxT 7 I met the far travelled Parisian lady in the 
station house of Taranda. We had much to talk alxjut 
when we contributed to the cost of a common dinner. 
Untouched by years, youthful and enthusiastic, Madame 
Massieu afterwards undertook a lx)ld journey to Khatmandu. 

With growing uneasiness I approached the hour when, 
after nearly a year's complete silence, I was again to receive 
letters from home, and I wondered whether I should break 
them open and read them without any cause for sorrow. 
The post met me at Gaura on Septemlx-r g. I read all 
the evening, all night, and all the following day, and I was 
able to take the last days' journey to Simla in comfort, 
for I was spared any untoward news and knew that 
all was well at home. Xow the wind whispered more 
gently than ever in the Himalayan cedars, and the roar of 
the Sutlej sounded like the roll of drums in a triumphal 

In Kotgar I was present at evensong in the missionaries' 
church. How strange to hear again the soft soothing tones 
of the organ, and as an unworthy Christian pilgrim in a Chris- 
tian temple remember the solitude of the past years. 

The following day I marched along the road in company 
of my men for the last time, for near Xarkanda a rickshaw 
met me, sent by Colonel Dunlop Smith. I left them to hurry 
on without delay, while they were to follow in the usual order 
of march. How pleasant to lean against the back of the little 
two-wheeled vehicle and roll away at a rapid pace under the 
shady canopy of the deodars ! 

Septemlxr 15 was a great day for me. I stayed at the 
bungalow of Fagu, and this camp, where I was quite alone, 
was No. 499. Simla, therefore, would be 500. It felt 
very strange to stand on the boundary Ix^tween the wilder- 
ness and the most refined civilization. At the breastwork 
of the excellent carriage-road sat a gentleman in his rick- 
shaw; it was my friend Mr. Edward Buck, Reuter's corre- 
spondent. This is the beginning, I t'nuught ; and on I went 
on this last day's journey. The fine imposing town 







t i 


'I !li I 


appears in the distance on the slopes of its hills and the 
white houses peep out from among the trees (Illustration 
287) A young maiden takes a snap of us with her camera, 
hut it is early in the- morning, and withcnit further adven- 
tures we take refuge at a gentleman's outlitters, for in 
M)ite of the clothes from Poo 1 mu>t undergo a comi)letc 
renovation Ix-fore I can present myself Uf<;re the d.wrs of 

the Viceregal Lodge. , ,t t u 1 i 1 f^. 

What a total contrast to the lonely life I had led tor 
two long years! On Sei.teml)cr 16 a State ball t.K)k place, 
and I heard again the crunching sound on the sand ol the 
court as innumerable rickshaws lx)re guests to the bail. 
Rustling silk, glittering jewels, brilliant uniforms -in an 
unbroken line the elite of Simla pass bc-tween satellites 
with their tall turbans and shining lances. (.od save 
the King! Followed by his staff Their Kxcellencies enter, 
and open the dance to the notes of a waltz of Strauss. It 
was just as in May 1906, and the twenty eight months 
that had intervened seemed to me like a strange fantastic 

'^'^The first days I staved in the house of my noble old 

friend Colonel Dunlop Smith, and had now an opportunity 

of thanking him and his amiable ladies for the trouble they 

had taken in connection with the consignment to Oartok 

the year before. Then I moved over to the Viceregal 

Lodge, and again enjoyed the same boundless hospitahty 

with Lord and Lady Minto. From my window I saw 

again, sharp and clear, the crests of the Himalayas, and 

beyond the mountains and valleys of Tibet stretched out 

in a boundless sea. What wealth and luxury! I lived 

like a prince, walked on soft rugs and meditated, lay and 

read Swedish journals in a deep soft bed, by dectnc 

light and liathed in a porcelain bath, attended by Hindus 

in the viceregal livery -1, who had lately gone in rags and 

tended sheep. ,. , 

On September 24 a hundred and fifty ladies and 
<rentlemen in full dress were assembled in the State room 
r„ fhi^ \\rcr,Hja,\ hn(\m: The occasion was a lecture, and 
on "the dais '"huniT with gold embroidered brocade, where 
the thrones usuauy stand, was set up a large map of 

Iiii l,\.>i Ml Mi'.i K- 'K III! !Ai'H>mii^ VI nil Iairwci 

\ I. I kK. \l \.'l',>i-\ l\ ^Ull. X. 


t II 

I i 




■•—^ —'-•'■'"'—•"'""•— "■'■"*' ""■•'' — — - laj- 




Tibet The front scats were occupied by the Commander- 
in-Chief of the In.iian Army. Lord Kit hener of Khartum 
tie Governor of tia- Panjab. the Maharajas of Alwar and 
Gwalior, and among the quests might l)e seen generals and 
superior onkers. State secretaries, men of science and 
mem>crs of the diplomatic corps then present m Simla. 
Th^ Military Secretary, Colonel \'ictor Brooke, came 
/onvard and' announced the arrival of the Viceroy and 
lady Minto. I was trembhng with stage fnght, but 
before I knew anvthing ab<^ut it. my opening word.s 
•'Your Excellencies. Ladie. an.l (1. ntlemen.' sounded 
through the brilliant s;doon, a ' then followed an 
account of my last journey It .as one "^l"^*;^ " ^^ 
morning Ix-fore I concluded, and alter a ^<'^ /•f^^""« 
speech from Lord Minto the guests withdrew to the late 

^"^Mv six Ladakis and -ur seven remaining animals 
stavTd in a serai below the palace. I often went and 
alked to them, and played awhile with my old travelling 
companion Little Fup'.y. But the time passed quickly 
and^oon the last day came I ^"^ traced and squeezed 
Little Puppv, stroked his head, and found it hard to tear 
mvself awky: He was put out by his master's elegant 
co'stume, and had a melancholy (luestioning expression, as 
though he suspected that the bond between us ^^•as "osed 
and that we should never see each other again. We had 
shared everything in common from the time he was born 
below the snowy Karakorum pass, and to part from dogs 
is the hardest trial of all; to bid men farewell is not so 

"^'^ aTou.^ arrival in Simla I had given them 60 rupees 
each for new clothing, and in the bazaar they had found 
some old cast-off uniforms with bright "^^tal buttons 
which they thought grand and becoming. On the neck 
lappets were the words "Guard, London S.VV Railway , 
and how they found their way to India I do not know^ 
But in these uniforms and in red fezzcs my men assembled 
in the palace court on the last day of September (lUustra- 
.j- -agN TK„,r ,v^r^ allowed to keep our seven horses 
and mu/es, saddles, tents, skin coats, l>ed furniture, and 




, ! 



cvirvthinK. Mv white- horse- they were to sell in I..h the'nrice. (lulam took charge of LiUU' I uppy, 
an<l unckrt.K.k U. see that hv .lid not sulTcr want m the 
future it was like hreakinu up an oM home. HeMcles 
his pav, every man received a present of lOO rupees and 
their expense's to f..ur times over. Lord and Lady 
Minto .ere present at the la>t farewell, and the Xueroy 
math- tnem a short ( tieery speech. It was a sa< l-artinK, 
and even the calm LobsanK, who was amazed at the 
wealth and splen.lour of Simla, wept like a child as with 
heavy -tei) he follour.l his comrades down to their waitinj^ 
animals. "What faithfulness! what devotion!" exclaimed 
Lady Mint.) with feeling; "their tears are more expressive 

than words." , ,.■ i i „j„ 

At the k-ginninR of Octolx-r the Viceroy and Lady 
Mint.) set out on an excursion inf. the mountains and 
after a heartv farewell and warm thanks for all the kindness 
thev had sh.')wen-d on me, I remained l..neiy and forlorn m 
the'ereat l.akuv. Mv >te;imer would not leave Hombav for 
a week, and I was' .leli.t'htcd to Ik- the guest of Lonl 
Kitchener in his residence Snowdcn during the five days 
I was vet to stav in Simla. I shall never forget these 
davs Siv room 'was decorated with llowers, and on a 
table stood fourteen lx)oks on Tibet, chosen from the 
General-s library to supply me with entertaining reading. 
With the aides-de-cami) Captains Wylhe and Basset, 
merry fellows and good comrades, we lived like four 
bachelors, to..k breakfast, lunch, and dinner together and 
spent the evening in the billiard-room, on the mantelpiece 
of which was the appropriate motto, "Strike, and fear not 

In the afternoon the General took me out along the 
road leading to Til)et. We then talked of the future o 
Europe and Asia and Africa, and I gaine( a greater insight 
than I had ever done before in'o Lord Kitcheners liie 
and work in Egypt. , 

But the davs at Snowdon also came to an end and on 
October II. when the i)eople were tlocking to church, 1 
was driven by the victor of Africa to the^ station, where 
I look a last farewell of the man Un whose e.\piOitr^ 1 
have alwavs felt a Ijoundless admiration. At Summerhili 




station, below the Vict-rcK'^il I-'"'P''- ^ t'xcharmcd a la-t 
>hakf of the hami with my <ltar friind I)unl(.|) Smith, a 


then thi- white lunisis <• 
an'l the train nilled down 
great lonely sea. 

f Simla vani>hed in thi- di>t:inif 

to the heat of India and the 


,^i.viaBn r^Aar,!? 

i s 



Abbot, a twelve-year-old, ii. i6,^ 
Abdul Kerim, my caravan leader, ii. 326; 
error of, as to (oranc, a4'; assumes r6li- 
of master of ta.avan, jiji, 344; ideas as 
to the time of day, 303; despatched m 
charge of second divisicjn of caravan to 
the Tarok-tso, 371; anxiety as to where- 
abouts of, 3g6; arrives at our tamp at 
Ratse, 399; bid farewell to, with other 
live of my followers, 4>6 

Absi, peak of the Kubi-gangri, ii. loa 

Abuk-la pass, ii. 31)6 

Adam, Colonel, military secretary to the 
Viceroy, i. i& 

Age, average, of caravan, i. 53 

"Aid," Mohammedan festival celebrated 
in camD, i. iqi 

Ak-,ai-chin, lake, unannexed region of, 1. 
rn, <)>, <i8; ii- 2f;H 

Alchi, dangerous bridge at, i. 44 

Alexander the Griai. i. 3; ii. J13 

Amban l-ien VU, oi l.ha-.a, i. 393, 400 

Amthcn la pa^^, ii. ,(<)'' 

Amchi lama (monk-doctor), tent temple of, 
ii. Jo6 

Amthok tang, plain, ii. 36 

Amchok ISO, lake, ii. .^6; camp at, y;: 
shallowness of, 3~<-, soundings on, 39 

Amchok yung, village of, ii. 36 

Amchung countr>', ioleresling information 
acquired in, ii. 33^ 

Aniitabha, the Tashi Lama the incarnation 
of, i. 326 

Amusements, Tibetan, i. j^: 

Anchar, late, i. 32 

Angden la piiss, cairn with prayer-streamers 
on, ii. 34; paroramic view from, 31;; 
not situated on same range as the 
Samye la, 330 

Angsi chu, river, ii. 104 

"AnteloiK Plain," name given by Captain 
Deasv, 1. 14 » 

Antelope.s, i. 02. 114, "75; "• S^, '"'< 
38j; methocl of snaring, i. 374; "• '"), 

Aong tsangpo, river, ii. 399 

Archery and shooting competitions on 
horseback, i. 343 

Argok-tso, laki-, ii. 400 

Arnold, The Light oj Asia, quotation from, 

ii. io6 
Arport-Lso, lake, crossing of ice of, ii. J63 

Arung-kampa, deserted village of, i. aSo 
As>es, wild, upright position of froien, ii. 

95; great herds met with, 185 
Atkinson, Mr. E. '1., work by, cited, ii. 40J 

Bailey, Lieutenant, Acting Resident at 
Gvangtse, i. J55 

Halls, State, in Simla, i. 17; 11. 4»o 

Baltal, i. 38 

Bando, camp at, ii. 83 

Harley, roasted, a delicacy, ii. 14 

Haroiig la pass, ii. 30 

Hasang valley, camp in, ii. 46 

Hiisgho gompji, monastery, i. 44 

Bed, method of making my, i. 150 

Hen la pass, storm on, ii. 34 

Hesant, Mrs. Annie, i. 30 

Bibles, the Tibetan, in library of Tashi- 
lun[)0, i. 333; in Tashi-gembe, 41a 

Biographical details of caravan, i. 151-153 

Birch bark, dream suggested by, ii. 95 . 

Boat, our portable, 1. 38; successful tnp 
of, 107; description of Tibetan, a88 

Bogtsang tsangix), the, camp at. i. aoj; 
interview with chief of district, 305; 
geographical information obtained, ao6; 
erratic course of, 307 

Bokar valley, ii. 3i3 

Bombo, or district chief, i. 363 

Bongba, province of, ii. 304; tension of 
journey through the, 313; names of the 
twelve districts of, 3S8 

Bongba-changma, district of, ii. 304 

Bongla-chushar, district of, ii. 379 

Hongba-kebyang, district of, ii. 388 

Bongba-kemar, district of, ii. 334, 389 

Bonglia-kyangrang, high-road to Lapchung 
through, ii. 387 

Brahmaputra, the, valley of, i. 381; wel- 
come news received at, 383; monasteries 
of, 383; conBuence of the Chaktak 
tsangpo with, ii. 48; measurements and 
ratios, 49; junction of the Tsa-chu- 
tsangpo with, and measurements, 74; 
possible diversion of, 78, varying volume 
of, 88; Nain Sing on its sources, 89; 
Webbers confusing statement as to the 
origin of, 89; Ryder's map of valley of 
upper, 90; source-streams of, 90-^5; 
author's determination of its source m 
Kubi gangri. 96, loi; we bid farewell 
to, 105 





1 \ 


" ii 

Itritish Oovcrnmrnt, rhrincr of, 1 4; jrfu-i- 

pirini-Mon lo int. r I lUt fioni liuli.i, 7. 

t\,s. I .I'.itiDU- i«'li' y i)f, 10, V)'; 
llii, I. Mr u -• 1 ', H') 
liud.llii, MDiK- iik:"!'^ "I. •'' "'■■'■• ' '''■ 

,.,sHirc.,f, in sl.itui- .iiM |.i.ium-, u 10 
Ilii.l.lhiMii, ihtroiludil iM<i lil'l, I- i',-- 

|.ri^cr\.itioii oi lili .1 liii.' |.iiii 

i oi, lii . , 

lli.k.i iii.ii:iui, nioui.t.iiii -yliiii, i- I'M 
ll.imiiak ilii], riviT, ii. 11 , ■ , 

liuii thu ls.inKI">. 'iMT, mourns (il, 1. ^7''. 

ionlUii-iui with thi' My . hii, )Pi 
liiiiit^. IK l-;iii>;i«., nv.r, 11. !-•;, xiinry 

of, w''. >'^ hr.ulw;inrs, .i.'7. i-""I' '•>' 

the, V"^<) .. 

Hu|)VUii« ring v.illcv, l« auty i)f, "■ .W7 

of Ih. Suil.j, li. .^7; l"^'*' '■>■ '«•'>'''•" 
,irul, mciilion.Ml, 40-t; <li-.i|'l""\'^s ol 
aiilh(,r\ UM' of till- iiaim- 1 ..i"-Hi>na 

liur'r.n'n^ln >t Willcom.', Ixjmlcn, im-.|i,ine- 
ihist prt-^cTUol i'y, i- "•). ':'■ "]}' 
otTi-rinK to the I a^hi I.ama, jit); 11. 

•JO . ■ , 

Uusir t->angl>o, rivir, 11. 201 

••CM of the wildirtuss," the, i. i 

r.ilv.rt, Ml., rrosso Juktila l>ass, n. ii5. 

("amii, our tl^^t, 1. i^ 
I'amp lift-, routine of our, 1. 150; 1 il)ttan, 

ii. i'-7 
Caii-pUll llanncrman. Sir Hinry, 1. 4 

tili;;rani^ sent liy author to, >, .V)0 
Canillrs, Christmas trie of, i. 2 1) 
Caravan, our, eipiii>i.iint of, i. 3.-<. ^.!. 
trouhle-onic iiu mU rs, ,iS; l.ioijraphi. al 
details, m.-i<n; re.irr,i)ii;.-m.nt of, !'•'•; 
home -il knrss in, ii. (12, 67; tliree 
memlxrs <!ismis-eil, <'■,: their reinstate 
ment, 73; n.lvi.lion at l,.k<h<n, 107; 
reori;ani/ation of, no. preparation ol 
new, for fre>h exiniiition, jii, S2<i, 22^. 
heavy lia^'i;ai;e ■sent Uu k t.i, 220; 
ivirtinR with Kol»rt and Kul., 22'r. 
NIohaninu-dan festival, 2(>o-. losses and 
siikaess, 2()s . suiktiIuovis Ui^uane 
sacriliiell, 2()o. 270. 2S2; directions to, 
274, mv hidinj; i>lafe in, .14S; festivities 
in honiHir of C.overnor of Saka, I'lS; 
divided into two parties, ,71; eoml>ine(l 
.UMin. 400; \r.\niut!. uith n-y .aravan 
liailer and lompanioiis, .iih; farewell 
to remainder of followers 111 Smil,., 

Cissils, Mr , iiresent of tea from, 11. 170 

I 'hahuk-tso. Like, ii. 322 

t'hak 1 honi la pass, i. ni 

I liakko, hi'ly sprint?, miraculous (lowers 

attributed lo, ii loft 
Chaklam la pass, li, ;oX 
Ch.iktak tsanKiKi, 'ivir, li 4' 

tions for e\i ur-ion to, 47. 

with the Hr.ihmaputra, aX 

mrnis and ratio-, 40, '' = 

wards along, 65. lamp 


lonlliM ;i. e 

me, IS.. II- 

journey north 

attain ori, JJ5; 

eastward man h aionp north bank of, 

5 i" . return to, 171 
Chatiio lunt;-(h. n i dli v, ii. un 
( All lie', or native Ui r. i. 'is 
('liaii).'.i, village of, i <>,i 
( haiii; wirnmo valley, bivouae at, 1. 79; 

'•■ ^." 
ChaiiRla pass, i. '14-, altar »"n praver- 

-Irianiers on summit of, <>t) 
Ciani; la I'lxl la I'-'~\ mianinK of the 

term, ii. II). tampon, 20 
IhaiiH lii"H ''•"■"'•' vallry, 1. .■ 1 
Hunt; lur-K vo^ma valley, 1. Si, H4; dilti- 
ciJties in, S2; lamp and rest in, tii; 
sunshine and inow, .H3, maiemUcent 
landseaiic of, Hs; , ■ j 

('h.iiiKias, liUtan nomads, i. iiij; fnend- 
lini-.s <if, >S2, i.>^.'<; habits and tastes, 
1.S4; skill in hunting, i''>5; hard life of, 
is()[ dis|«>sal of their dead, i.'<7 
Chaun-shunt;, a headwater of the tvaga- 

tsantiim, ii. 41 
ChanR tant?, the, drspi-ratf situation in, 

i if)2- our suicessful ero-sinRof, 210 
Chang \in Tant;, Chinese Comnassioner 
in lilxt, eorres|X)ndince with, 1. 39J, 
31)7; ii. 42, 70, 
Chapka la pass, 1 2V) 
Charvak, lamp at, ii. 234 
Cheya t'ompa temple, i. 2S0 
Chema vundun^', river, ii. QO, 105; mea- 
surement of disihartje, gi 
Chima yundunK pu. hi-ighl.s of, ii. 02 
I'henmo, iul/Jjr of Tankse, i. 73, H? 
Clierfip fiompa mona-stcry, lis single 

monk, ii. i'>5 
Cherok, ili-triit of, ii. 88 
Chisaiiij la juss, intense cold on, 1. 274 
( hhorlrn, or stone monument, i. 42 
Clii Chao Nan, translation of passage from 
his work on soune of the Sutlfj, it. 
ih,; airur.iey of his statements, 1.H3 
Chikum, view from camp at, ii. «3 
Chimre monastery, i. ')4 

t'hinrse (lovernmint, messages from, 1. 
3,si,, 3(|i; imiKirtanee of suprcmai y in 
'I'iUt'to the, 30')-. s|h-i imen of <liplo^ 
matic lorresiondenie, 31)7; lourtesy 01 
olVii i.ds to author, 400 
Chinese iiassjiort, dVicaiV of my, i. 2og 
Chilli I '.ikang. nuns' temjiorary quarters, 

Tashi-luniK), i. 3'7 .. 

Cliiptu la pass, piU-rim route over, 11. 3X8 
t hiu t;ompa monastery, visits lo, ii. 159. 


Choikarsh"ng ihu valley, 11. 75 . 

Chokchu, I rava.i t.iund for, met with, 

1. 270: the Governor of, ii. 399 
Choma taka, cave of, li. i.< 
Chomo-sumdo vallev, camp in, 11. 16 
Ihomo uchong, "High Nun," ndge of, 

ii. 41, US. 344, 3"> 
Chont'-vangal, I amp at, 11. 2 i2, our celebration of, 1. Jio; 

I .iilaki h\mn and dames at, 220, trans- 

la'ion of hymn sung at, 221; compan- 

-on of dilTirent years, ii. 248 
Cliugge lung valley, i. 271 



Chungsann, a tributary of the TsariRpo, 

Chiinit tso. lakr, 11. ,)jj, .^^;; warm 

phur sprint? at, ^i? 
Church, I.amaist, i. ,501 
Churu iKwl, ramp at, ii. 67 
Chuta ili^itriil, sulphurous sprinp's in. I 
C'hvkvint,, thr (iova i)f, ii. lu, Uf> 
C'lc'anlini-.s, l.ailaki>' iontim[it fur, i 




C'o< kliurn's Aci-nc y 

inR and lran>ii()rt, i. jS 
Consul of NciKil, thr, ■, (oi, }:^ 
Corrcs(ion<lcnrf, arranKrnuiits for forwanl 

inc. i. 7J, Hi, .■>;, lou wilmtne arrival 

of, ' at 'thr NKanKt-sf tso, 2,4; ami at 

ShiRatso, 177 
Confr, sv*l( m of, rxaitol on 1 ilxtan 

high roa'i«, ii. ^iH 
"Cripple," our f.uthful lanine fo!low( r, 

i. jft? 
Crosliv, expedition of, referred to. i <}'<. 
Cur/o'n, Lord, 1 n. oura^;inl; Wlter from, 

i. .1; liavrs India, .1; on author's 

of name Irans Himalaya, ii. 41.^ 

DaiJtse tso, i. J17 

DahlKr<n, Dr. K. \V., si.itrmrnt liy. as 

to w.ill ma(>s in \eni(e, li. 40') 
Dalai I-ima (Gvaljio Kin[«<het. rowar.lly 

flinht of, i. /41, .toft-, his sphere <om- 

pared with that of the 1 ashi tJ.l, 

disastrous |«)liiy of, t2t 
Dal-dervaseh, laiial journey from, i tJ 
Ual(?lcish, Mr, nionummt to, in I.ih, 

'• ^'>' ... 

Dambak-rong, vallev junttion, u 70; 

letter from the Tanf? Uarin received at, 

Damchu, nver, n. iHi 
t)amm valley, ii. 70 
Va>itl\. or averaj-'e man's load. i. it,t, 
Dane. Sir lx)uis, interview with, 1 7, .' i 
Danglie <h'.i, riv( r, i. 27') 
DanKl>e la pas-, i, 277 
Dangra vum ts... lake, jxtmission to vi-il. 

rofu.sed. i. 347, 2S''. reputed salinity of, 

ii. 2<>. shajx- and extert of, 20; liili'rim 

routes round, m; Nain Sink's nonii n 

clature of district, so. proposed dish 

for, 3R2 
D'.Xr.ville, maps by, referred to, 11 is;. 

186. ^17, 401 
Dapsanp, on the heiehts of, ii 24H; ( hri^t 

mas Uix tor the anim.ils at. 2^1 
Daya Kishen Kaul. private secretary t.. 

Mahar.ija of Ka.shmir, assistance ren<li t' •! 

bv, i. 24, 2*< 
Dead, barbarous disposal of the, i. 170 
Deanc, Sir Harold, i. 1 s 
Dcasy, Captain, "Fever Camp" of, i 

120; baeeage and provisions left by, at 

Yeshil kul, 1 2H 
"Deasv (Jroup, ' mountain mass. , iji, 

Dilma la, pilgrim otTerinL's on, 11. 2'. 
f)rna Ihakang • niple. 'I'.i-M liin|M). i. .''i 
Denlistrv, drasti. forri of, ii. .24 
Devashung. Hee Tibetan Government 

Devotional exercises of pilgrims, Ta.shi- 

lun[Ki. i 1^7 
Dii ha la pass, importance of watershed, 11. 

Dikf^i kjrriiik, or test stone for sinners, 11. 

Ding la, the highest [ass crossed in our 

journey, 11. 400 
f)inner. State, at Simla, i. 12 
l)iri pu ii.,;nastery, my tent pitched on rcxjf 

o(, ii. 11)1 
Disguise, assumed by author, ii. 277 
Dogs [luppies taken with [wirty, i. .14. 
frolic of, 17, '12, fto, 7-1. M.l, i?4i ii- 
14, 41; frcmi I'obrang .iiided to carr -i, 
i. 74; lie-ertid by one of our, 7 . a 
splendid feast, io.-<; loss of two, ;-'). 
two new followers, 2^1; an interesnng 
event, V"); illness and death-s of, ii. Os, 
ft;, 71. 3si; another hal'py event, 21H; 
hiss of Hrown Tupjiv, 201, .101; purchase 
of, ,10=. ' little l'upi>>'s first 
e:ipc,-icme of ruri-ing water, ,114. lak- 
kars avowal of alfection, iicj a sorrow- 
ful firtira-, 41U .,,..., 
Dojas chiml«, court in lashilunpo, 1 

Dokang vallev, ramp in, i. J7q; 1 ilxtan 

jmliteness in, 2K0 (Kaga-lsangpo\ river, voyage 
throuiih rapi'is of, i 4>>*; il-s confluence 
wilh the Ilrahmapiitra, 4''(. rockdraw-- 
ings in vallev of, 422; junction with 
the Mv chu, 422. head sources of, ii. 

■lonasterv. mentioned. 


1-2. 1X7 
Dole gom|)a nunnerv. i 421) 
Doncihen ^i pass. wiM shec p on the, "■ ,?Ho 
Dor.L'dong, glaciers of the, 11. c)2; praks of 

thi'. 101 
Doi'^'ii.o rhu, river, ii. 10 
Dopsirnia, island of the Langak tso, 11. 

1 7S 
Dorab la pass. ii. 71; 

/).ir./i.-. or emblem oi thunderbolt, i. ii.** 
Don he Tsuen, Governor of Saka d/one. 

discussion of my return route with, ii 

5i;;n;ri, 164; i.amp festivities in honour 

of. ihx; bid fan-w'll to, ,170 
Do-tsenizkan, mountain, ii. .ri 
Dras, river, i. .10; stone figures of Hudilha 

near, i. j'j ; junction with (he Wakkha, 

■*° . ■ (. 

Drugub, i. ft7 , our new caravan at, 11 120; 

salt c at. 22>* 
Dsatio. title of ulTiiial in Chngha, i. 416 
Dsalurg la pass, iirjiurtance of. ii. iNS 
Duan Suen, Chine e ofTiiial in Shigatsf, i- 

20K. ISH . 

fluff. General Sir Ileaur hamp, 1 16 
Dufou'. map bv, ii 4eft 
Dumlok tso, lake, i 2\<t 
DuniTtsa tsO, lake, our camp visited by 

liUtans at, i. 102 
DiiiiL' veila'- , O.I .is of. ii. 21,1 
Di'ik.i la [ass, view of the Shuru-tso 

from. ii. . 



I ! 



Uunlop Smith. Colonrl J. R, private 
srcirtary to Viceroy, 1. 11, arraiiRrs .1^ 
to mv (i)rrrs|K.i:<lrrn.c, 10.1; litlir lu. 
from ' Toki hf n, 11. 107; fon-i^:nmrnt 
from, rra(hf-> ti.irtok, jj,?; h<)S|iit,ility 
in Simla, 420; R("-l byr to, 4H 

IJunlunn v,illi-y, ii- ■<<) 

Dunlun«<lo, viUry jun<tinn, 11. lOl 

Dufkani;, or hfrmilanc, li. 2 

Uutrruil (le Khiii-, i re rich ruiilorrr, 1. 4^ 

I>t,mi;, or town with resident c'jvornor, i. 
Diuwh village, medicinal springs at, i. 

Kagles, i. 3og 

h.arthquake at Selipuk, 11. 100 

Kclipse of the sun, incidents ol the, 1. 

Klectrifity, Kencration of, by driftsand, ii. 

Klcr>h,int, a uniciue, i. it') , ,■ u 

Kmir Sing, brother of Maharaja of Kash- 
mir, i. it> 
Kiniipnient of caravan, 1. iS, .,y, 11. iU 
KMiirl, our I'athan and Kajpm, i. i". "ur 
'Iilx-tan, 404, 424; insiKCtion of, »■ 1". 
fre-h, from K\angdam, ai; route .Us 
russ.d with, ji; the Governor ol Sak.i 
ilzong supplies milit.iry, ,^b% 
Kspionage, system of, i. ,17') 
KuroiM-ans, di-trust of. 1. JOi; 
iron statues of, in •I'.ishigrmlic 
tcrv, 413; imreased stringency of regu 
lalions regarding, li. 35<> 

Fagu, bungalow of. ii 410 

Family ties, lixiseness of Titx-tan. 1. 373 

Kirld-mi(r, treacherous hoi. s of, 1. <)3, go, 

147, ji=;, 33t. ii ;>-• '')" 
Kirrworks, dispi.iy of, .it Sriiiagar, 1. 27 
Food supplies, .aliulaiions and estimates 

of, i. 73 
Fox, surprise of a. i 14^ 
Franrke, I'astor .\ II . i =;4 
l-rilhiof'^ .Sjrd, quotation from, ii. 11 
l-roding, quotation from, 11. 
Frost bite, heartles.s desertion of victim of, 

ii. 240 
Funeral custom.', gruesome, 1. \t>q 

Game, abundance of. 


77. 105. 'I- 

Oandin-choding, nunnery of, 
("..inii.irbal, first ..imp at, i. 

of car.ivan from, is 
Oang luni;, nmunl.iin. ii. 100. 1 jq 
(" lung chu, river, ii. los, 120 
Ganglung gangri range, direction 


(iinievan. i \f^ 

(tanju gomp.i monastery, 

("lanju la pass. li. ,S6 , „ , ,, 

(Mill, or small i .ise with figure of Iluddha. 

i 247 1.1 p.xss, ii. ^f<b 
Gar guiisa, arrival at. ii. 319. misleading 

(1. ileparture 

of, ii 


reports intentionally spread at. anj; 
plans formed at, 222; arrival of consign 
nunt from India, i.^i. leave for lankse. 

224 , 

Gartok, men and baggage sent to, from 
Tokchen, ii. 107. miiin caravan sent to, 
from KhaUb, 20^, letters ieteivi.d at, 
211;, visit to the (iarpuns of, 2 1 > ; 
friendly letter from l.ien Darin at. 210. 
lonsultation wiih Gulam Ka/iil at, 217; 
plans consiiiercd, and return to l^dak 
resolved on. 21H. leave for Gar gunsa. 

2 If) . , 

Gaura, letters from home received at, 11. 

41Q . .. 

Gave ling, massive of Kubl gangri, 11. loi, 

10? . 

Gaw' Daloi, Chinese Agent at Gyangtse. 1. 

V^K; curres[)ondence with, iio, 39J 
Gaelics. Goa, i. 240 . . , /~u u 

Gebuk-<hu. lonlUience of. with the Cnak- 

tak tsangpo. ii. 337 la pass. ii. u', district of, 11. ,t.?0. 
Geese, wil.l. Hock of, i. lb^. habits of, 

1(17, i()S; migrations of, ii. 321 ; I ibctan 

reverence for, ih2 
Crloni;, order of priesthoo<l, 1. 311 
•■Gelugpa," n.onastic sect founded by 

Tsong Kapa, i. tss 
Gertse, from, i. 170, 11*4, 102; 11. 

2.SS'. their .li>lriist of each other, 1. ii;3; 

house of (hief of, ii. 3<)(> 
Gelsa runK, k'ol'l i>lai er of, ii. 27') 
(i'l\ui, oriier of piiesthiXKl, i. ts' 
Ghe, bivouac at, and escort changed, i. 


Goa la pass, 11 387 

Goa-lung valley, ii. 3R7 

Goang-shiHu-, guides obtained at, 11. 3qj 

Gii,ing-I-.i, Like, i. 217 

(ioats, taken with caravan for milk, 1. 

Gobrang, ridge of, i. 206 

Gogra, camp at. i .'^i 

Golil. traces of search for. i. 174, 188; 

placers, ii. 27.^, 2H4 
Gomo selung cojntry, i. 170 
Gomi)a sarpa, < emelery of Shigatse. 1. 

Gossulgompa monastery. 11. 122, 135; 

novices in, 14^. Huikang of, 14", Som- 

chung, apartment in, 140, -iew from 

roof, 14^ 
(.'in'rt, or district chief, i. 20.S 
Governor , dual. Tibetan system of, ii. 

354 , .. 

Govo. village of, 11. 14 

Govo-tsangpo, r;ver, ii. 13 

Grilnwedel, work on Huddhistic mythology 
bv. i. 320 t 

Gubuk gompa monasti-.^'. ii. Ro 

GulTaru. oLl. i. S2. 72. »*■. »'."!• " *°\ 
appointed caravan leader on Miihamed 
l-.i's d. ath. ^it. returns home with thir 
teen memU-rs of caravan. 107; safe 
arrival at (J.irtok, 141 

Guide. Vagaries ol our. 1. 42S 



Oulam Ka'lir, son of Niirr Shah, assist 
and- r< lidcrid in ShiKatsc liy, i. 377, 


Gulam Razul, son of Nazfr Shah, valuable 

services of, i. 50, ii 217-211, honours 

conferred on, i. 56. ii. 221 
Gur.da tanimo, n-i:ncry of, i 433 
Uunsang Ngurbu, a centenarian homit, ii. 

Gunt, camp at, i 37 
GurkanK |>u valley, ii. Ko 
Giirla Slandatta, mountain K''oup, ii 104, 

106, III, iw; var>ui>{ as[ieit> 1' 114 

IT.; denudatiiin tones, 157 
Gyaipo KiiuKKhe, "the rrccioas Kinj?." 

Sre Dalai I.ama 
GyanK chu, rivir, ii. S8 
GyanKt-se, letters despatchc<l to, 1 360; 

messafje from Chinese Anent at, jHS; 

Muhamed Isa's mission to, 31)1, 31)6 
Gyebuk la pass, important trade route, ii. 

47 ; view from, 4.H 
Gyri^ong valley, larnp in, ii. J71 
GyegonK la, ii. 372 
Gye la pass, ii. 361 
Gyenor tsanptio, river, ii. 39J 
Gyuma chu, river, ii. 163 

Hajji Ilaba, name assumed by author, ii. 


Hamduni;, wandering lai as quarters in 
Taahi lunpo, i. 3i;7 

Hasting.-.. Warren, embassies to thi- Tasfu 
l^ma from, i. 331, 334 

Hawkes, General, i. 16 

Hemis, temple of, near Changa, i. 63 

Hermit, tell of, near I-inga gompa, ii. 3; 
his heroic vow, 3; his prayers for the 
sick, 4; ceremony of seclusion, 5; (|Uota 
tion from Frbding, 6; livinR death of, 
7, 10; lavcs of, at Nyang to ki pu, X; 
Waddell on practice of seclusion for 
life, 9; last offices, 10; a centenarian, 

Himalayas, the, view of, from the Ta la, i 
378; from the A^dcn la, ii. 35; from the 
Serrhung la, 6<) 

Hiraman, an old friend, i. 67, 73, 7<; 

HIabsen Uorche barva, god of Iso mavang, 
ii. 131 

Hlaie Tsering. Sre Naktsang, Governor 

Hie lungpa valley, ii. 193 

Hlindug lini!, i. j.-fg 

Hodgson, map by, ii. 401 

Home-sickness in caravan, ii 63, 67 

"Horse years," periods in Tilx-tan cycle of 
time, ii. i.)0 

Horses, purchase and numbering of, i 40; 
qualities of different breeds, 4q; auxiliary 
caravan of, hired from Tankse, ^0, 67; 
trouble with, on leaving l^h, hi, first 
lass of, 71! ; field mice holes dant'emus for, 
Q3, 06; ii 307; l^daki consideration for 
dying, i. qi; stampede of, qq, i w, i?**; 
ii. 30. mortality among, i loi-ioi, 13?, 
138, 149, 163, 181; ii. 365; diet of 
"fibftan, i. lyo; mules compared with, 

198; death of my dapple grey, ji8; 

splendid (ondition of our 1 iljetan, 365; 

survivors at Shigatse, 397 , our veterans, 

130, 339; my white l^ilaki, li. 339, 

3'>i, 373, enormous wastage of, 340. 

Christmas box for our, it,!, death of 

brown Shigatse, 364, and of my faithful 

'^hite I^daki, 379 
Hu I sao Hsing, secretary to the Tang 

Uarin, ii 70 
House, dixriptiotj of Tibetan stone, ii. 

14; doniestic utensils and possessions. 

House-boats near Gandarbal, i. 33 
Hu<, Abb^', lx)ok on TiUt by, ii. 403 
Hymn, liUlan, translation of, i. 331; 
wonderful chanting of, in Tashi lunpo, 


1{( nomads distrust of the, i. 334, J37; 
singular formations of, on the Ngangtse- 
tso, 337 

Idar, the Maharaja of, i. 15 

Illness of author, 1. 173 

Im.iges, manufacture of, in Tashi lunpo, 
i. 368 

Immurement, voluntary, of monks, i. 363; 
li 3, 8. ' '« Hermit 

Imjjrcssions ,11 stone, i. 337, 406 

Indi.i, the Tashi I-ama's visit to, i. 331 

Indian Government, the, symjiatny of, i. 
11) ; instructions of, as to author's pass- 
port, 35, 36 

Indu.s, the, previous searih for rise of, i 3; 
crossed beyond Laraayuru, 43; start for 
the source, ii. 30S; guide and sheep 
hired, 310, discovery of source of, 313, 
313; mintal picture of its course, J13, 
juslifiatile feelings, 314 

Instruments, scienlitic, taken on expedition, 
i. 29 

Jackilaws, flock of, at the Shemen tso, ii. 

Jangkint,', district of, ii. 313 

J.i[ianisi- Kn.bassy, representations on my 

iKh.df at I'ekin by, i. 391 
Jera, tamp at, 44 
Jukti la pass, ii. ais 

KabKiIo, camp at, i. 179 

Kdchrn. order of priesthood, i. ,151 

t.ddakh, long narrow piece of white silk, 
i. 310 

Kadsiing vallcv, i. 80 

Kailis, "the holy mountain," views of, ii. 
106, III, 113, 181 ff.; set out on pil 
grimage round, 189: Nyanili gum[i.i, 
190; pilgrims on the way, 193, 197: 
Diri pu monastery, 193^ test stone fur 
sinners, 195; universal Tiljetan reverrm .■ 
for, 11)6; the most famous mountain 1(1 
the world, i9.'s; prostration pilgrimage 
descril)ed. 199; pilgrims' performance .it 
Dung thapje, 300; offerings on the Uol 
mala, 301. Isumbul pu monastery, 303 

Ka la pass, view of, ii 396 

Kali Oandak, river, ii. 78 






„( til. 

upptT Ch:ilil.ik 

i (n1 
, "■ '•■'■'■ 
, vuw 



i)n\c M^d-nt to, 

KtluH, or hieh o(Ti( iul 

k.inili.i ^utii'lo, 11 11 , 

K.imlu TMninn, t. .1' , n. ..nipmrnt bflon>; 

IPK to, li. U'J. "'T'-r "I «""'' 'l-'l'""' 
,41; vi«.l 10 mv t.nt 
W.Kal 1..IW ol, ;'.;. ■•|.'>1"T 
roMiirs" ;''7. nioiniou^ t' nl ol, ,! 
pxxl I'VC to, ,(?> 

Kcimdiunw ihu, n.mir ot 
t .ini;i«>, ii ;U 

Kini l.i |i.i^-, 1 J'\ 

htimpii hinii, or alilxil, 

K;ini lium; >;an>;ri raii^'i. 

Kariilo ^ valliy 
through, 11. »02 , , . , 

Kantfain, ti-iit^ pitihcil at. 1. (') 

KaiiKluin; l)UiKhn, nv.r, 11. 4'J 

KanKluiiK la pa^s, tin-o 


KanK rinpo' he. See Kailas 
KanK,han, t^an>;w, r.v.r, unplca.-,ar,t cro..- 

Kanju°'ih','ikaMU, lil.r:>ry of Tash. lunpo, .. 

5(j; Icrturc^ in, ;'i'i>ihor, lamyiat, i. J'>i 
Kaptai kh.uu-, tamp -'L " ^.U 
karaka.-h Uarv.i, nv, r, 11. JW 
Karakorum ran^r, a|.lK-aran<f of. Iron. 

i:hannlunt!>onma, .. .v., laravan <n l>v -lorm from. .)i 
Kart.u, an ohi f..lU>*i-r riuoKnuul at, ., 40 
Karlju 1 1 l>i-^. ii- '07 
^a:'u^r:"r^d.n.^.A of.Ka.h,n.r„ 

anU Pathaiw from i arav.m ,il. 1. 4 1 
Karma I'unt.o, (;aVirnor ol Uonulu, n 

K.'irm'a'''-ramaini;, of Tann vunn, 

ami vak, .vijipln'l '>>■. '• •'" 
Karoni; t>o, l.iK''. »• .V^7 
Karpun, an oM a. quaiiitanii-, 1 
Karu monastery, i. 'ij 
K.ini, I amp at. i 404 . 

Ka.hnnr, Sl.>har..,a o (S,r Vratah 

rmption of .lulhor l)v. 1 J'', ttt. 

I J trophies anil curios in house at 
Suiila, .^; pholo^raph of, in I ,ishi 
lui,l«, w. b...piial.ty to au-l.or. n. 
Aij. IimI k'ood to, 4a,t 
Kol.l.. ^all.■^, lamp in, li. 11 J4. Ix-RRinK 
I. "11 .It .(4, imix-mhnK difljcultics at. 





by, "in honou 

birlli.i.iv, J7 
Kashmiri-. .li-TT.i> of. 1 
Kavi pan>;l)iiW. i .imp at. 1 
Kavi runt! v.illty, 1. 3bi 

t)V. I iO, ICH- K'"" 

KmiKTor of Imlia'a 



Kctx-i hun^;u 

ramp on moor, 

. 4I'( 

V.lUtV, I. 3UJ , 

u .o'untry. ionli«uration ot tlic, 
,,,(,; liu^t >torra in, u,lt 
Kclunj; tsani;ix>, riv.-r, i, ^"4 
Ki-sar t*am;iH>, river. 1. 2i>i 
Kcva, moum.iin [x-ak, 1. ii'> 
Khal.-li, river, ii. iSi; ram.] 

IM, l.<<>, 20.t 

KholiMr, atti-iiil mis.sion sirvit r in, 

Kithum.' l.» 1"^'. ''• 4.S , ,„ . ,11,. 

Kit-n I.upl;, Kmixror of tluna, vi.,.tul b\ 
third la-hi l.ama, 1. ,U4 

Km.hinla pa-, li. .UV. .i;">"<l ^ear. h 
l).iriv vi-it our i.imp IH-Iow the, ^4} of 1 .i>hi luniio, Km-mH^ >'■ ' 
iMulilrons in the, i. I'n 

Kilihener, l.oril, as-.i.tan.e pronu^ed bv, 
i ,s- at Viirruy's Sute dinner, bimla. 

KokTi san-po, river 
ros-llH'. ^o 


»i; difficulties 

KoplHn. I 
Kore l.i pa-- 
Kolikhk. 11. 
Kri.hna. thi 
Kubi «.in(;ri 
souri e of 
1/1. ha»< 

,k on Lamaism by, I. ,519 <•■ 
ii. 73, «i; view from, 78 

I'undit. 1. 373: 11. 404 
exiursion lu the, 11. XH, qq; 
the Urahm.iimtra loi ated in, 
moraines of, (i<y. (jla. lers of. 

lane moraines 01, i)'t. ni..-.w, «., 
description and names of peak-s. 

11. go; measurement 
yi, journey up the. 

■?-.' !<>'. '»5 




viMted by third 
mira< uloui tree in, 

, II. 


brother of the 

j.->i, 309. ^li' 
; portrait drawn 

Kubi tsank'I«, >■"'■'■ 
of disc harne of, 

K'.un lun mountain .system, 

Kuijiis or iuw,;"'. «il'' 

i';4. 177. ''. 
Kule la pa>-. li 3.>4 
Kuni bum monastery, 

'1 ashi, i 3(4: 


Kui.jiihak konK valley, 
Kuiik' Uushuk, Uuki 

l.ishi l..ima, i. Js5 

hou-r in Shina'.-e, 3^ 

of his wile, 
Kun>;lun>; v.iUey, f.iKe alarm at, 1. JI5, 

a prolon^^eil storm, 216 
Kuiii; mui;a, tamp at, ii. .'^J 
Ku!i>:slur>.i .ouniry. dangers of discovery 

in, ii. ii's 3 '9 
Kunn tsanulK), river, 1. J6j 
Kuru chok, double lake of, 11. 104 
Kvamchu, valley of, ii. 3&. junction of 

river with the .Xmchok l^, 39) "«■"» 

of. (9 ... 

Kyaiia il.iiii pl-'i'i- '■'"'? on the, 11. jo 
Kvanmlani>;i«), river, li. 34 
Kyerkye vJle>, li. 4.'' 

Labrant;, the, palace of the Tashi l^ma, 

•■Lac'Xiniiioniae," Dutrcuil de Rhins', i. 

199 , .. 

I.achenkabab, spriuR of, 11. 1.^2 

l.a.he-to island, l.anKak tso, wild-geese 
(.^;^;s on, li. 175 

Lac nu, river, n i.M 

l.adaki ijony, my white, 1. S3, 170, '97. 
ii. a2(j. 2(1-,, 37.1. i79 , . . , , 

Ijdakis of larav.m. their cheerfulness, 
i -() 2?o- statement.s reeardmi! the 
we,i'ther ' 7.r. attention to dyin« horses. 
<H- [iravers for successful journey, 139, 
leMiviti.-s in camp. 14O; " ''■>■ *^"* 
oi cleanliness, i. 150; marNellou. memory 
of ui; blo^!raphical d. tails nl. 151, 
I .'iniaists amc.nK. receive blesMUk; ot the 
■la-hi, 3sO; ^onie-sic kness amonR 
li hj. ()7. costume of, assumed by author 
aj disguise, i77 





viiw from summit of. 

I.aduiiK •■» I" 

I..un 1 1 P'l^-. ' "^ ■ , , I,, r.illt.irv <asl<- 

.'.•,',,„;,' m.-.n,nK of utW . "• 

Laml.lLmKv;,ll.-y, campin i 2.., 
Lamlm,nUlu.svuw(n,m . ,, 'i 

I.anaW la pai-. el..,o.l U. author, .. ,■) 
l.aml>lip, .1 hvik!'-, 11- .f0 |,,^.,.|^ 


,(s6- len.n.l its to or.Kin of <hann. . 

lK)t of, 11. «'','. 415 . . ( Ij 

LanK. hen-kamba, vall.y aiul sprint? ul, u. 

Lan°t!.hen kamba (EUphanl nv.r) TiU-tan 

narm- for the Sutle), 11. iHj 
Lannniar village, tamp at n. u 
Lanffmar-tsanm*. river (upi>cT Mv thu^ 

Lanrta <hen massiv, Kubi panijri. ii. loj 

Lankar-Ronipa monasttrv, 11. i';i 

Lap, sevi-ri- 1 limatr ol, 11. M" 

Ll'pcn -ran. 'view of largo pan«n from. 

La'rRt'p. chief of, friction with. ii. 2S; pr"" 

rnis from, 34 
La rock pass, i. j."*© 
Lashman Uas, rumiit, 1. 41 
I^i shvinn country, 1. 174 
Lashunv; tx), lake, 1. 174 
Lavar «an«n, mountair romon, 11. S^i? 
Lavar tsani;jK>, river, 11. S")*) 
Lilata valley, '74 :„ ; .c our 

Lrh, arrival at, an.l quarters in . 4 , o^r 
tinal preparations in, 4H, l^.?' .-^"V^^ij 
.aravan <le-pat. he.l from, V. H. JJi 
Nanr Shah, a wealthy merchant ot, ;.. 
assi.taiue of Gulam ^a/ul, hi.s s«n^ ' . 
description of town. ^7; old t"':"' " • 
c,. graves of Kuroixan, in, ,8. inci- 
dents of our send oil from, f>o 
LehluHK «ompa. visit to monastery ol, 1. 

aj? stutied vaks in, 4.." .. 

Umchun. tso, lake, -amp at }^''."^'^^- 
UwiniimK of » ih.rtydays storm at, 

look on Tilx-t 

I .iijo, valley of, ' 4J9 
l..~.lain, Count de, 1 i7». 

Letter" t^.ome .irnv.J <)f, '.■■/"••'"■ 
arrant!einent> for (..rwar.lniK. .7', H.I. <"■• 
^oj, \iespatch of, from I ok. hen, 11 

I hT, a viMt of .ilVinaU fron., it:';. .W = 
imd up Sonan, .u,d 1 a.hi desjutched 

•liUtans from, a^ to my journey, 44 
1 h IV iL ( .mil) in, ii '> t 1 

iTjn Uarin, Aml'an of Lhasa, eorrespond- 

encc with, i. 3'X. 400. il 4^. I'f 
Litjhten. Lake, camp and ■;•••'«;"•'• ° ! 
IKTso^nel of caravan a loi, 
M.ond .amp at, 107, an 1 
measurements of, ,07- mo, storm on 
", mis. table ni^ht at, ny. var,..l 

;,,',;,ones .,f, ""'''""'.^'-^^ryl^ 
us, lis. su.l.len change of sctmry on 

Liti'l^omlumonastery, ii. 74; ^^U a, 

.itinkin^; vessels in, 75 . .lU.x.sal 

lin^aKomiia monastery, 1 4.^0, ''*I« ■■ '' 
orieceased monks prolK-rty, 4,?i . ^'<.» 
^om 4U 4U; rhvthmi.M m. 
;ri^^" I'esuVcmplein, 4J4 . an optical 

illusion, 435 . ; ,,„ 

Linc;a kok vilLiue, .amp .it, 1. 4,to 
L>nMovill..K«.ro.k drawings near. ..4" 

li;l:anK Sfiunten, secretary to Governor 

of N.iktsani;, 1. J49 , -t- .,hi 

Lol.san« Tscring, se.ret.iry to the I a.h. 

I ama, visit of, in Sh.gatse, 1. JoH 
Lob,an« •Iserinn, Tibetan nomad, 1. 

Lo'cjapu, Nepalesc frontier chief, ii. 

I^c^k" by Lyth ot Stockholm, i. .o»; 

iSinii^ic!^; X. a lucrative mono- 


tsanKi«i, ii 41 
LukkonK, villag'- of, 1. 7° 
Lumashar country. 11. 30" , 

LumlK; gangri, holy mcumtain. view ot. 

from the Kilung la, 11. Or, 
Lumbur-ringmo tso lakc^ ''• f ^^^,^"„, 

pirions of at, a.H, , purcn-isc 

L^miu"^ TseCg. leader of Naktsang party. 

Lilngdep-chu. the, tributary of the In.ius, 

L:;;;!' ;. ningn. head of wild sheep secured 

L.M.g I'and'e'.. gompa monastery, of the, n. 3 
I.ungnak valley, i. 7** .. 

Lungnak buixliu. stream, u. 3>3 





iU '' 




,h nod u( T^u niavann, 

I.unnnnK fwiH% ii 40 
I.uiik; yum:, nvrr, ii ')a,|. at. 1 Tl nil liMvinR, ;^ U im^*. u V>i 
I.uni- K-'nH". fx-ak. o(. virjinR vk«s i. 

I.ym^,' suicM'.tuI, liUt.m a.lmiral...n <.f, 

ii 350 
Maliir unR^am angmo, >amp at, 11 

M^rhi lu, Chin.M- from Lha^,.., 

i 400, 4*^^ , , 

Ma.hunK vilLiK.-. .mmIxjIi. .U-M«nt at, .- 

M Swincv, C'olonil, 1 ift ,.. , „ 

Ma Dal..'.. Chiiu-s.- ...n.nim, .-r in Shik-'al-^ 

i, „A ,1S. ..I.l.ral,..,, of ' N.», .,45'. or.l.r, in.' to l.avc Shi^at..-, 

Mailo (.tmo, th 

ii. I \a 
Ma liiiiK, river, i a77 
Mainrr. vill.i«<- of, i (6 

ManasarovMr, -ihr holy 1 ikn, M. .or, 
Hinilu v.-ncralion for, lu. suri.a-.Miik 
U-auty of thi- lak.- an.l Us ,.irrouTi.liiit--. 
Ill rilj.-lan ,u|>cT.mi..i.s,'-l.>. Mi, ii>. 
Jormrr I. vl-, MC o'.ir l.:-t sail ..n, 114; 
soun.lin^s ami i,nil«-ralurr, of, "S M , 
l^htninK HT,-.., on, ...; --1'-^ 
natural phrnomn. ., n'., ",. '<>"^- 
voyagr on, >3i; pilnnnis al, iit. ■.-■ 
the lamas of (;os.uUomi.a a-t.,n,sh, .1, 
,,,; of, .J2. -'orm on, iiv. 
peculiar wavo umlulalions, 1^7, n>ap 01 
!:h„r.l,n,- .Irawn. wS. on.Mn of lak. 
d.-t.-rmin,-.l. .;H, I u>;u i;om,.a a .M 

age toth.-, !.,,(; o-rniu -torn. ..n. .,,.- 
,40 svu.our from {, .4., 
,4,; monks''.iry slal-'m.'nts as 

to. .47; .Is M".ii<y. '^'' ■^1'""^'' ';• 

,rh ,;S; un.l.'rfr,.un'l ...nn.'.l.on with 
La..Kakt-n, ..;?, ">-■ ,•'"",'"'• "'• '^^^ 
C-hiu%omi.a, 1^.,: our last .lays on, .r«5, 
I'umliV, a:'..l^iU. nan 
st,ries, ."^ ■"'. ^""ount o surfa.o 
„at.'r tlowini! ,Mt... .'.<: '•''"'"'■'l;'; .;,:'" 
I-annak t-o an.l, i'>\ 1^. ■">"• <-hcrK.p- 
Kompa, ,'.s. fr...'in« "'• "^° ■ J""""^^ 
alone nonhcrn shor.-, 4.s . .u 

A/a«. r.-.K«,.<, or slonc c.-ls lovcrcd with 
slab's, i fii 

Mankonh !a pass, i <«3 u- v. .,-„ 

Manuel. , .x>k ... a'.thor. .. ;... h.s broken 
KnKlish, ■>-. -'»t home from Lake 
LlBhti'll, :CJ. ."'' 

Maps -.ferr.-.l .0 of Na.n Sine. ... 2, 30. 

5^ Qo 40^. WebUr. ,"0. D.\nv.lle. 

,8, i^fi, W7. 401; HcKlRson 40.; 

Dufour. 4<»'; Saun.Urs, 40^; Atkinson, 

403; kri-.hna, 404 
Mar. h, l.nL'ih of a .lay's, i- 73 
Mar. hit t>.i, l.ik. . 1 2^^ 

by Nain Sing, 
book by, men 
and namc.l 


tent villages 


M.irium rhu, river, ii 10 
Manum U pa^s, crowid 

I. H,, 

Markhani. Sir Clements, 

Ik I, II 40> 

Markhani, Lak.', divovered 

l,y Captain KawluiK, i. 14** 
Marku Iso. lake, 1 JJ4 
Marn\ak la p.iss, 11 104 
.Marsi'mik la pass, slow progress ol 

over, 1 :'.. .lis. ent ol, 77 
M.irl^an^ i-.iin!;'". river, 11. .;o 
.\l.itx, iJr K.irl, I U 

.\1 ir\ Kev Mr , missionary at I'oo. n 417 
Mas,u.i. M.i.lame, melting with, at 

1, ii 4I.> ,. ■ 

Matayun, lamp at. 1. y,: disturlan.e in 

i.iravaii at, v> ., , , t u: 

Maus..leums of five 1 ashi Lamas in Fashi- 

Uiiii«>. uo tt?* 

MedKine .hesi, a ix,|iular, 1. JQ. I7'. 
presente.l to the I'ashi l.ama, ji'J 

Memo c hutsi-n, warm spring of, 11 J7 ) } 

Memory, 1 laniples of marveUoUi. 1. 151 

Men ehii, nvi-r, li. '.S 

M.n <hu vallev. (ampin, 11. <X) 

Men. lii ants, lii^-tan, i. J17 

^^enlll)n^! Komju monastery, 
of, li. 3^ 

Mi-iui, a templinu, i. i'<4 

M, ike saiii;, view from. 11. 3SH observations 1. 

MiiUo I-Mrl of. Viceroy o( India, efforts 
on Ik half ol author, i. •>: State d.nner 
iiul livee bv, 13; rieeives author as his .;, his iiopularity in In.l.a, and 
State' sirvi.e, 13; family life of, 14; 
author's farewell to. an.l family, iq; 
hospitality of, ii. 430, si>ee.h to my 
f.ill.iwer-. 431 , K'X"^ ''y '"> ■'^' 

Minto. Countess of, i. 13. '*< ">• "• 

Mirage, perplexing effects of, 1. 94; "■ 

.\IiUaK l-efHer, Professor. Stoikholm Uni- 
versity, .i 406 

MorIk) (limrop lountry, i- 
news in, 300 

Mohanlal, men hant of, Hindu do. tor, 11 .ii'' 

Mollah Shah, a former follower, met with, 

Monks in Tashi luni«, reliRious ceremonies 
bv i uH ff . k'r.ides and numU-r ol. 

Vs'i, !W. ''■•>''^' !'''■ "f. ''^^' '^"' *^"'''" 
r.insumption of t. a amoiiir, is'), i><'\ 
voluntary immurement of urtain, !')!; 
sfirt rule enf.irK.I, !(.4 ; manufaeture ol 
iirat-es bv, ?fi7 . funeral customs, ^Og 
Moi'.'am Konema, ii. ,.3, 
Mon'oon rains, importance of, 11 6« 
Mont^omerie, Colonel T. G ,11 ^"-O, 4.o,t 
Mora.ian missionaries in kin.lncss 
of, i «4. a.lmirable work amon^ the 
I.adikis, !;4, .;<; , ^ , , ,. 

Morl.'\, I.onI, Secretary of State for India, 
i 8.' '.), 1 1 ; e.xplains refusal of permission 
to en'.cr liUt, 10 

1Q9; gloomy 


k H 




MugliK mustrr of ramp and in.'prftion o( 

Muh.iMiMl N.i. my I IrwJrr, i ^o, 
iX[xrirn( <■ .iiul i|U.iIiIm ,ili(in», 4'i. 47, 
his iirriKir.ilcons liir ii|ul[mu lit of, 
4H; watilidil i.irr rxir(i-.i'il tiy, 76. his 
cpinldii ol Ihc k.ijimt 1 ~( iirt, 7(t, wiv 
marks rrritril tn, > t, i-(i), srts oul t.r 
GyAiiKt-r, ,(1)1, ('(''. .irt.iiiKfs festivities 
in ita-ang <am|p. ii 47. loaves wiih 
main raravan fur Saka, 47, illnrM aij'l 
siiflirin^'s of, <;j, ^1. his death, ;i. 
funeral nf, ^t>; a(i|irr< lalioiis <'f. ^7. ^v 
inMnptioii on tDnilisluiir, <;.H; rmifiru 
a()[jointi(l hi» sill elisor, vj; Muham 
mi'dans huld memnnal fea-t, f>o; ili- 
pressing rllii ts of hi- di ath. >>i 

Muhamid Rehim, minhant from, 
li. iU 

MulcihunRsimo ma'.-ive, Kuril KanRri, 11 
100. lOJ 

Mukden, Chn^imas moH spent in, ii iaA 

.Mules, lomparisoii of INxhk h anil IiUtin, 
i. J'<, t'i>^, heavy li>sses of, 141), I'u, 
ift|, IQ7; our new animaK at Oar Kunsa, 
ii. jjo; lonir elTeits of whi-ky on, j)m, 
3O4; death of our last veteran, 161 

Mumtant;, Nepal, laravan from, ii. 7^ 

Nfuiij.iin valli y, li ji j 

Muii ISO, twin lakes, [josilion of, ii. ivj 

My 1 hii tsanj;|«i. river, i jf"), J71; com 
pliiated s\s|im of, J7h; eonfluence of 
bok rhu with, m: journey up v.illey 
of, 4J? tT ; sienery of, 41X. an eiientric 
Ruide, 43H; eommeriial im[)ortan(e of 
valley route, 43Q 

iNadsum, ramp at. i. 317 

Na«ma tsanajio (, river, ii. J.H 

Namir. the (Jova of, ii. S4 

NaRrong villi y, monk doetor's tent in, li 
j()6. animal- and -tores pun ha-id in, jij7 

Nain .SinK, hi- disiovery of treat l.ikis of 
central lilK't. i. ?; nonieni lattire of 
BoiJt.sanR tsani'[» ilistriit, 30h, outline 
of the Nuant't-e t-o, Jio; maps of, re 
ferred to, ji;o, 2;S; ii. 31, 3'). 41. ,\o:, 
V*so. 401; on -oune of firahmaputra. ,^'> 

Nakt« RonRronc ^rancri, mountain, ^7'i 

Naklx) konccio la pa—, ii. 176 

N.ikrhu, pilgrims from, i. 300; punhase- 
frotn, 303 

Nakt-anp, flovernoi of, refusrs to allow to proceed, i. 3(6, 34.1. '47- 
previous troulilc with, 7\X; moetini:- 
with, 343, 3 17. his treatment hy the 
Devashunp, 341, 3-1, i7h; my projio-al- 
to, 344: iine.xiHited (h.inL'e of front liv, 
3io; celi[>se of sun exjilained to, 3';4; 
lordial leave taking, 3-7 

Nakt-ani;, hor-emen from, our nrnpre-s 
stopped Ijv, ii. 36; palaver am! aeree- 
ment with. 37; ro-tumes and equipment 
of. u 

Naniai district, camp in, i. 361 

N.mi irdinj; valley, camp in, ii. 107 

N.ini.i -hu, camp at, ii. Xo 

Nanuhin valley, joint camp in the, ii. 


(63 ; »torf» laid in at, jfta; rfnfwH 
diMUssion of m> return routr at mffting 
in. \f>4 

.Namuyal Ihakang trmplf, Tashi lunpo, »er- 
viir in, i. \tii 

N.iniU, village of, ii. ^% 

Namla Roni|si mon.istrry, li. Hj 

.Nanireldi, i.illry ami stream, ii'. 1^6 

.S'aiiRs.inR ta piss, li 03 

N.ionR ruriR \.illev, t 3ft,t 

.V.ionR t*anKix), river, i. 3ftJ 

N.ivaia, mountain, i. 41S 

Na/er Shah, Hajji, a wealthy patriarch of, i <;s; luirative mono|»ly in family 
of, lit), srrviies rendered to author hy 
his sons, nft, .177. .l"**: "• "7 »"; 
eommeriial interests in ShiRatJC, i. J1I5 

Nehuk, vill.iffe of, ii. 80 

Nika di-iriii. lamp in, i. 314; sicknfsa 
in f ar.ivan .it. 3 14 

.Nema Ink, ramp at, ii. 110 

.N>|al, the Consul of, at Tashi lunpo, i. 
104; visit from, ?74. a P»'ep into, ii. 
7Q. temptation to extend journey south- 
wards, Ki 

NerunK tsanRpo, river, ii. 84 

Neve, I)r Arthur, SrinaRar, i 3? 

Neve, I)r Krnest. i. J.i 

.New Year, Chinrsf, celebration of, i. 


.New \ear Festival, Ta.shi lunpo; its 
[popularity, i. 101; our drf« lor, and 
journey to, \ox: a piituresquc a.s.sfm- 
lilaRe, (04. drevsfs at, .^ov. reasons 
for of interest in, jo6; an en- 
thralling hymn chant, .loH, arrival of 
the Ta-hi l-ama and his court, (og; 
religious dances and masques, ^ii; 
efleit on the sjiectators, im; a symtiolic 
fire, (14; combined dam r of lama% 
(H; general purimse and significance 
of the ceremonies, ^i<i 

Ngangga, or Ganga, channel lietwern 
Man.i-arowar ami the l,anRak tso, ii. 
I. So, isf) 

NgangLiring tso, lake, irregular outline of, 

"■ 10'* 

.Ngangtsr tso, lake, rest at, i. >J,i; thick- 
ness of ice of, 334; hermit's cave at, 
33 ^; soundings on, 336 fl ; sledge con- 
structed, 33(1; singular ice effects, 337- 
30. New Year's Day ic)07 on, 3io; 
N'ain Sing's outline of, 310; crustateic 
in, 311 ; trying weather on, 3 13, letter 
with baci news from Roliert, Jift. meet- 
ings with Governor of NaktsanR at, 343, 
347; arrival of mail tiag, 3,S4; reasons 
for rememlierinR the, 357 

Ngartang, bivouac in, i. 377 

Ngavang, joint Governor of Saka dzong, 
ii. (i;^, (68 

Ngomo-dingding, Rlacicrs of, ii 03, o'', '<" 

Ngiirbu Tondup, our mail carrier to 
Gyangtse, i. j6o, 374; brings u.s rock! 
news, 1H3 

Neurkung la pass, ii 76 

Nien rhen tang la range, Reographii al im- 
portance of, i. 367, 373; ii. I'), 3io; 





I I 





\ Pi 



q„r.tion» .i« to it< .(irfrlion :inH r»trnt, 

317. W4 
Nim.i liiiiK !■> I«". " '" 
NIm.i Ii"!'!! villrv, II 1 J') 
N,m,. I..-IM. .I...I..; ...ort. » 1'^ 
N„ ^t.Ul■^ L.iii'l. ' ■'•< ... ,^,, 

from Naktsatm. "'■'• '""" ^"''""' " 


Nuhri, i '>4 

N.,n,,it I'.i^hi liinp.1, i ^^^. 1^'" 

Niirl.i ^l.iliiin hciii-i-, i 1 1 . . ,. , 

in, r.MM- ../ lHlk;ri.M. 1.., . yi . h..lK oi, i.,i 
Nv.iin! 'h.i, nvii, I J'li!lok. im.hrrMnl. <av. 

N\.inv.i,"' in S, i'''.." ""^ 

Nviiku. fn.n.ll.n.s- .,1 (..iv,, ,.(. ii Co, (>, . 

■.irn>.il .in'l -.inil' ■", ''7 
()....« Cm-. «m of <-."ViTn.,r of SA, .l.-on.- 

„v:^il,:;::r'Nr;i': w ■■. ^n-t. ••■-■;'• 

.\B.nt .It lly.ini;!-'', i- .'14. ;"''■ """ 
j.rrt.T I.) Ill-' r-'-l" '•■""■' '" ''"''•'■ '■-■ 
, suri.ri-c- fn.m. (77. ""'' 

O^'.iwV," I'nVssnr. Kioto VmvtrMty,, 
l.ition t)V, ii i^t 

•■■.,n mam lu.lmc hum. lit-t.M 
(ormul... 1. 4.. i> ". 4V \\..'M.1I> ■ 
m.irks „n, 304; u'-iv. r-ity "f. •'o I "■'•■ 
GupiK^n .11.1 t;ru.i«..l.l\ lr..i..,Ut.oi. .... 

OniUi, nnm.iiU, ii J0^ 
;>mhfl. shiulj u.s.-.l f.T fu^l. 11 »';'> 

P,n.,I,,. mount.iin r,.ne.'. . J'.-.,i„.n of 
imr«>rt..iHK.-<..;r..l.hi..ap-.M."'. •"■:. ^.» 
r.iih.n v.ill.-v, 11 I". ■-"• 1' " 
I'.l. hunit v.ill. V, li 1 w, "'•■ <' ', 
I'allm..,h.,v,., t.iun.l - „1 I...m,ii.m, 1 

in , li. ") 
rama. ^vtus of ;ut i;ht, ii. 1 _( 

I'.Am.i v.ill.v, li 7') 

IS^' .i:;,:%c. •■,h. (;r.n 

Tcirhcr." '<<■<■ 1 .i-'ii '•>"'■' T, „ i- 

,4J; .-Kt- 1- our >■' I'll. \''''. .lout't'i" t.r 111, i7J. .C U'* 

i:::^So;::j;riAs. v^ prev,„u, .... 

to, 70 
P.>n.;Mt.ik, ..imp .it, 11 4.; 
P.inkur (..untry, 11. i.<o 
Park.,, laK>;..j;'' -''"t t... h "•''. < »'"?""• '7" 
Park.i, thf .Its li>. 17'' 
Partrid,;. . sh.K.tii.L: of. ciu-.-, .uspi.ion, 11. 

P.irv.i v.ilUv. .ami. .il«)v.- tlv. 11. .vi 
P.. . ,..ik. vilUik^c of, ii. 05; ui.rdiabU 
liala in, 66 

p,«.r, of thr Tnn<», prinrit«l, 

„ 40.t. unkn.mii. .ro^,.•.l l.y, 
40, .ivrr.inr hrinht of. 410 
P.,.i.,rt Chinrsr, uUim.itr valur of, 1 t'i'i. 
,,Lli,r,« o(, w^, trrm, of my nrw, 

P,>!hat'i.,"o/rs'ort. i ^1; 'lilVi. ulli'■^ with. 
P. .|i.rni>s<-il from c.iravan, 41 

P.ili i"i, .li^lriit of, I J07 

Patl.-r...!., Cai.l.i.'i, Joml ( ommi«ipn. r of 
I..„l..k. kl...!n-^ o(. , .'.. 47;",.-, 
c.irav.iii l«for'- M.ulmk', w,, I -..loll.!, K.M.I.iit at Srinatjar, htt. r 

P.,|,uu','i».. vill.-v of tti., 11 W. Vt" 

f'linc or l..iiro|«.in. 1 100 

P.mlM iM-nnt!, of Saka. ii 60, M, n\ 

\'M\.iU. N<I>.il.-- mir.liants' -. rai in 

Shi|Mt-i-, i. 174 . . , 

P.rmanakU. lan« v.ill. v, (amp in, 1. i ,; 
P.lir, K.v .Mr, l.rh, 1 ^'. 'X 

P,krim.inr of,,on, ,l,-s< nption of, 

Pilltiim', mr.tiiu- with ami pur. h.isrs I-. mi, 
i joo, JO.;, on th.' l^ahi..|K.. ''U. m 
Ta.hi luni-i, Ut. ^ = '1. -l-votioiul .x 
,r. iM^ i;-; niy<-> of .Mi-. . .1, 
ii f,.,; Ilin.lii, .It^arowar, 1 U. 
i;n im i.iurn. V roun.l K.nlas, i.;J. i';7; 
m.-n' >k.t. ti of K'-iMt r..utt.s of, 2o\ 
Pin/.ilin^'. t.ri.lp- at, •■ 4i'' . 

P„l,r.iMi; viU.ii;.-. tti<-itiuK with I-.nKli>tj 
.:.,rt.:m.n at, i. 71-. r>-< '"^ '"^" ■'"'' 
1„ ,,1 at -3. arr.ini;cmiiil.'< 73; our la-t [ of lont.i.t 
»ul) .mtcr worl.l, 72, 74 ...m|.li. ,ti..n~ I il«-tan O.ncrn- 
m.nt M-il in SliivMl-c, 1. ,17';; from an.l I hiii.-.- (.'.y rn- 
m.-in.s ^^\y>^^■ .vIm..' fn.m »,.iw D . "i. 
vjj-, l.i ( liiiiisc an.l Ii -tan'.- oil.. i.ils vn; Cliinrw supr.Y'1'.v. 
V)5; UttiT from Chang \m land, 

PonKihrn la p.i<s, 1. 260 

PiH. misMoiiarics ho-pitality at, 

ii'4,- l-.ikWar'* nturn to, 41.'* . 

PcK.n.h, muU, from, with 

•nutan, i JS, troul.lf with mm from, 

PorunR vall.y, sulphurou.s -.pring* in, i. 


P.iru t-o, l.ik.-, vKW ol. .1 y)i 
P.itu la pa.--, i 42 
Pu-chu, v.illi-y of. 11 40 

Pult-o, lak.', .amp at. 1. i.?i; "I'-'l-n 
sl.irms at, m. i,?0; soun.linns a.i.l 
m.a.,urrni--nlN i.U MV^ <ru-t.i....' m, 
, ,,. i.u 'i ii.iu< lamp lire. I U! ilouliU- l«ak-s of, 11 112. w'.. i7i Konipa moii.i.-ti-ry, 11 i'>2 
Pi;.ir ihii. riv.r. li. »S , , 

Pi.i.i.ili, l.i' ul. .1 lilt Oovi-rnor of thi , 1 iJ 
Pu.'.i uic, liUl.iii iioniail, i i~*.;, i'*' 
puiKhuiin i-int;i«>. "V.t i. J(.4 .. 
Puranj!, cpi.U mil of smallpox at, 11. 9* 



fuUin, V.irkiml fur roil, i ;• 
l' vill.i^'r. Lirni) il. I in 
Trayrr (unii il i, lii»t.iri, i ,\o\, IW, 4"«. 

}',.,^., m,ll-, m I.i.hi l'.!!U«>. ' •''■'■ '" 

r.i-hi HI inl« , 41 I. iiU'iuity i>l. 11 'o<. 
I'rir-lhi-«l, u..lir, ..f, 1. tvi , , 

^^u■^th.Kl-l, il.iiinn.ilniii of ill'-, m lil«t, 1 

I'r<islrali..:i |uli;rinuKr, ilcjiriplioii "I, n 


Quaill, ('■lUiil, ( ('iin,ul (, 

<|]nnir ^;lvcn ttt biiuU by, i lO 
Qu. tu, i. 5 

RaUan^;, l.i' graphical .lil.iiU nf. i isi 
Racis, mixi .re of, in ( ir.i\aii, 1 (i 
kaclult valley, ii i? 1 
Kak'.i la^am, lanip al, 11 4> i f""'"' "' « '* 

linu'-, rx|»'clili.m at, 41, niis- 

•.i-nt-rrt •!• .[kill hnl t'l SIiiimi^<- frniii, n. 

lamp 111. al, 41; lil"la" Ouvtrnm. nl < 

in^lr^lc lidiis nKardinn aulhur, 44. viMt 

thi' (Iciva of, 'i| 
ka^; I I^am.•|"l, river. Sif Uok . hu 
Kak'"!' valley, i. i^ri 
Kairi>, irTi|iurlaiue of moriMKiri, Ii. 6H, our 

tirst, ^irHl• le.iMnj; l.ailak, 7» 
Rajpjts of e,.on, i. jH; Muham.-l I-i'-i 

opinion of. 7S, 10 i, »int hunif at Lake 

Iifcthtt-n, lOJ, 106 
kakas lal. >><• l.ini?ak Ho 
Kaniliirpiir, nU.iK'e ol, i. (u 
Rart-e plain, .irrival of mi.i^ing followe^^ .it 

I anip in ihr, 11. ^')<t 
Rav:ik la (ki--^, ii 1 

Ravens, (H-rtin.iuly 
Rawalpindi, i. 11 
RawlinK, Capl.iin 
tovtTS Captain 
Vi^hil kul, HI) 

of, i. 14.?, U'<, i;5, i''l 



i. If), 


I ; 


■.1>V 3 




11a pi 





district 1)0, M7; Lake Markh.iin di, 
covemi and named l.y, 14.S, exiHilition 
to (Jartok under, ii 'lo 
Relum Ali, le.Mins in ruwinn |o, 1, loS; 
terror in •.torm on Lake l.i|.diten, iii; 
attacked l.y wiM 3ak, i;<), >acrilue 
olTercd up by, i()4 
Relii;ioiis, various, in laravan, i. )i, 5J 
Ril,l..i(h, Mr. and Mr.,, i. 55 
Rii henih'i, river, li i w 
Rii hiinn I lui, river, ii ii<) 
Ritk.h.iw-, reaMin for abundance of, in 

Siml.i, if 
Rii;i hlonia, iova of, interesting informa- 

timi liv the, ii. vi\ 
Rik A/x, order of prie>th<xxl, i. ,?ii 
Rin.ikrhutsen, lake, rami) at, i. pjS 
Hi'ndinii, order of prie-tniH«l, i. )|;i 
RiMfhuni; lountrv, lanip in the, ii. J76 
RoIjIxts in the Chaktak tsaiiiriw ruunlry, 

li. 135; TilH-tan punishmi lit of, s\'' 
Rolic'rt," my faithful servant and metror- 
ologual assistant, i. n). !'(. I4J, >=o; 
mediral skill of. I7'; honie siikness o(. 
ii. 6j; Uid news received by, Jig; my 
parting with, u^ 

hermit's irll 

R.Mk • illev, ii '■7 

koik ilrawiniTs in l>.k 1 hu valley. 1 4»J 

K..n^>rak <hu. river, u 104 

kuiii., imouraKi'iK 'I'"' "' '' *•■"■ "'• '• 

I 'Mi 

kukyok ls.inKI>"> "^'r. "'"' vail. >, 11 Ik,, 

Kiin« v.dlry, l.ivoui. if.. I *',! 
kuru; . hu, riv. t. i 1^0 
kuiii;Mi.i. villii^. of. 1 i^'-. 10l 
kyiler an.l Wmxl, maps In, referrnl lo, 11. 

«5, .JO, 405 

Sa. hu tsan>!l»i, river, ii .117. lanip al the, 

Si.lunn, ramp al, 1 40 I 
Saka, [« for excursion Kranteil liy 
(;.iverii..r of, li. 47- arrival at, M, 
.lilluullie. With ..lli.ial, of, 00. l.m« 

inn 10 (ill awav from, 'u. villane lif.-, 
bi; search party fr.iiii, visit our camp. 

Its; my return route discussed with the 

(iovernc'ir of, is.; \y>, J'M 
Sakli, vilja^e of. 1 '■ | 
S.iku i,.i)mi>a monaslerv, ii. 6» 
Sdt caravans, li. '.4, W 1. ,1"J 
Niltl.ikes, t(radu.d shMiikinn of 1 ibelan, 

1. iji; imiiortanre of their prcKluct, Igj 
S.dutalion, 1 ibitan form of, 1 iSj, no, 

J so, 4J<i 
Sani.le puk convent, ii, i 
Samkjne, or hermit's 1 ave, i JJ4 
S.mio lsani;[«>, riv.r. Iish of, li 107 
Samy. l.i pa.s, h.i.lnnjraphii al ami geo- 

v;r!iphical im|ioi'taiMe of, 11. W'j . un- 

l)r..krn continnince of ih.- I rans- provc.l al, no. not on the 

s.inie ili.iin a. the AiiK.len la, ,i io 
San h.n la i^iss, ii. iio 
Sai .ihills, shifting, on the Hrahmaputra, 11. 

Sand s|«)Ut, near Amihok yung, 11 i'> 
Saiii-ih. n. hu, river, lamp at the. o lot 
Sani;i;e n^'amobuk, visit from iluel ol, 

il- 01 
Sai\(!mo iHTlik .alley, 11. .17.S 
S.i:ii;nio Ix rtik l.i [i-iss, li. J77 
S.ini;r.i, mountain, 1 2('X 
Saiijjra p,illui valley, i. i(>', 
S.i.pul, i. 44 la lass, ii. iJj 
SchiialK.1, Rev. .Mr, missionary at Poo, 

11 417 

Searihpiirtv from Saka, ii. 3451 ■:'" 
strut lions' ret;arilini! u., .14<>, .14q; my 
reioKiution of I'emba I sennn an.l inlei- 
view with. 14^-,1S0', agree to accompany 
them lo Si nioku, .i<;o 

S'kva monaslerv, i. J'4i 

Sel.i la pass, 1. JI7. »;»; triumphant 
retlci lions at, a6H 

Sile nann valley, i. 3(>6, j68 

S. lin ilo. camp al, i- 3'i"i 

S. lipuk j;ompa monastery, abbot of, u. 
|i,,,; earlhijuake al, _V)'» 

S. lun« urilu v.iU. V and K'lacier, ii m6 

Scmoku, journey to, ii. J5j; mettinK with 



ANSI c.<-„ :SO TE5' CHART Nc 2 


ll I.I 

n III ^-s 

" illM 

' 111= 

mil 1.8 

'•2^ IIP 1-4 IIIII.6 

^ .APPLIED IfVl-".-^ Inc 





1 /, 

f il 

Govfmor of Saka dzonp! in, 355-^S'^; 

mutual courtcbioi dt, ,i6o 
Senrs yuriR nnKmo. 11. 3^5 
Scn-kamija la pa.vs, 11. 10.J 
Sciikor, nom.iiis from, 11. ago 
Sioyinna, mountain, i. i><) 
SiTihuMK la !«-.», view from, ii. 6g 
Scrcdiiit;, hill, i. 2M1 
Sir lam, ur ">;i)lii road," ii. 394 
Si rm.i lart.^e, ii. 40 
Scrolunt^ valley, camp at, ii. 113 
Scrulun^ ^^(jmp.i inona^lcry, ii. iia 
Srrjw tsungi-, mountain, i. a66 
Sirpur, the, i^rt-at hiijh road of, ii. jJi 
Scrshik Kompa mona.-.ti-ry, li. 34 
bcrtsaiiK chu, rivir, visit of Tibetans at, 

i. J17 
Sha kanpshara, mountain, ii. 302, 306, 

3'°, 3^3, 3^' 

Shak chu, river, ii. 20 

Slia la, ii. j6 

Shalunn la pa.-.s, .,- 371 

Sham valK y, camp in, i. 275 

Sham.saMK, lamp at, ii. HH 

Shanj^huk la pa.^s, ii. 25, 32 

Shan^; thu, river, i. 272 

Sli.ipk.'., I amp at, ii. gs 

Sh.ipku chu stream, ii. y7 

Sh.itt;ul, lama temple at, i. 42 l-ju, lake, li. 306 

Shawe, Ur.,, i. 54 

Sheep, return of our missiiiK, i- '65; wild, 
174; ii. 252, 310, 3.y>; as patk- 
atiimals, 2.S1;, 334 

Sheep driving, author's inaptitude for, ii. 

Shemen tso, lake, camp at, ii. 270; jour 
ney along, 272 

SherrinK, Mr. C. A., ii. 128; kiiidiu-ss 
of, and Mrs., 144 

Sheryak, carap in, ii. c)2 

Sht'y mona'.tery, i. tii 

Shialunn v.illey, camp near, ii. 236 

Stub la yilung v.ilIey, i. 271 

Shinatse: at, i. 21)5-, intervii \v 
with lommander of Chinese t;arri-.j,., 
2gb; remains of caravan at, 297; vi-.ited 
by I'iUtan oflkiaK at, 2c;.S; impression 
made by my Chinese passi«)rt, 2f)ij; 
permission to attend New Year 
in Tashi lunpo, 24y, description ul 
Festival, 301 315; return Ma UaKii's 
visit, 315; arrangements for visit to the 
Tashi Lama, 316; architecture of, 340; 
L)/onK of, 340, 377; siKjrts-meetiriK at, 
341-345; Cninese New Year c.lel)ratii)n, 

i45; ^»ruesome cust(jn\s, 370; 
h.isa Government otTuials' visit to me, 
375; arrival of correspondence, 377; 
assistance rendered by Gulam Kadir, 
377; market place of, 37S; system of 
espionage in, 379; sketches of women 
in, 3S0; variety of types and costumes, 
382; visit to' Kui'.g Gushuk, j.'-^; 
Cliinese inlnKUes in, wo; review of my 
position, 3Q4. sudden cordiality ..f 
authorities in, 398; formal counul held, 
ami my return route spec ihed, 39.'* ; a 

canine interlude in, 309; preparations 
for dcpa.'ture from, 400; messengers 
<lrs|,.it( |i,,l [lom k.l^;.l-la-sam tu, il. 42 

Shipki, village of, ii. 417 

Shipiii 1.1 p.i-ss, farewell to Tibet from, 

II. 417 
Shooting competitions, 'I ibetun, i. 343 
Shuvo tso. Like, camp 011 .shore of, ii. 30'> 
Shukkiir .\li, uniform iheerlulacss of, i. 52 
bhuru tso, Like, i. 21(1; ii. 25, terraies 
of, 33; unusual direction of, ^y, slor:n 
on, 34 ; sh.ii>e of, 34 
Shyok v.illiy, wretched journey through 
till', il. ^30-232; farewell feslivjl in 
vilLige, 232; caravan derelicts in, 237; 
(aniiie happy event, 23.S; cnormou.s 
wastage of horses iii, 240, 245; scarcity 
of provender, 241; our complicated 
silLiatiun, 242; miserable camping places, 
242, 24(); MohanimccLin hynui in, 24O 

Simla, scenery of raihv.iy journey to, i. 5; 
arrival at, and welcome by Sir Francis 
Younghusband, 6; anxious moments in, 
7; State functions in \ ii eregal I'alace, 
12, 17; ii. 420; rickshaws in, i. 17; 
Ford Kitchener's house in, 18; ii. 422; 
dep.irture from, i. 20; re-turn to, ii. 420; 
residence in Viceregal I'.ilace, i. 13; 
ii. 42r; ho-pit.ilily oi Colonel Uunlop 
Smith and Ixjrd Kitchener, 420, 422; 
lee. ure before the \iceregal (ourt, 421; 
good bye to my Ladakis and Little 
l''il>[)y in, 422 

Sind, valley of the, i. 35 

Singi buk, cami) at, ii. 210 

Siiigi c hava, ii. 212 

Singi Kabab, source of the Indus, ii. 310, 

Sin;'i tsangjio, or Iniius, ii. 210 

Singi yura, ii. 212 

Singrul, camp at, i. 65 

Sire hung, village of, i. 421; 

Skulls as drinking vessels, Liktse-gompa, 

ii- 75 
Sledges, on the Ngangtselso, 1. 226 
Small[)OX ejiidc-mic at Purang, ii. 92 
"Snoring Kuiuhuk," ii. 299, m; new 

title for, 379 
Snow-storm, a terrific, ii. 2fto 
Sogbarong Tsering Tunduji, Tibetan 

nomad, ii. 2S8 
Soma t.sangi«), river, camp at, ii. 3.S0; 

journey along the, 3.^(1 
Sonam Ngurbu, Governor of Chokchu, ii. 

Sonamarg, bivouac at, i. 37 
Sonam Tsering, leader of advance caravan, 

i. 51; in charge of the mule-s, 72; Jioints 

out Ueasy's depot, 129 
So valley, i. 2.S4 
Source of the Brahmaputra, ii. 96, 101; of 

the Sutlej, 129, 153, i8o; of the Indus, 

Spanglung valley, camp near, i. 78 
Spittol mona.stery, i. 45 
SiKirts, 'I'ibetan, i. 341-345 
Srinagar, scenery of journev to, i. 22; 

.;-:v.d at, 23; dinner-table concerninc 



author, 34; interview with thr Maharaji 
of Kashmir's priviUc secretary, 34, fdtc 
at, 27; equipment of caravan, 3>; 
departure fmru, ■ , puppii-s taken 
from, 34; plat--< nd loik specimens 
sent to, 10 ^ 

Sron^ Isan Ganpo, of, i. 3jj 

Stagma Kompa monastery, i. 6j 

Stockholm, departure from, i. 4 

Slok, the Kaja of, letter of recommenda- 
tion from, i. 57, jg.s 

Stoliczka, I)r., monument in Leh, i. <;.> 

Stone, imI■rc^^;ons in, i. 337, 406 

Stopka, vill^ue of, i. 57 

Siorm, a thlrty-day.^', ii. 3K3 fT. 

Sulphur spriiiRs, Chuta district, i. 83; in 
PorunR valley, jby; at the Chumt tso, 

SultaL, i. 67 

Sumdang tsangpo, river, ii. 398 

Sun, eclipse of the, i. 352 

Sung chu, river, ii. i8i 

Sunge la pass, ii. 400 

Sur la pass, ii. 393 

Sutlcj, the, source of, ii. i3(), 153, i.'^o, 
iH,s; old l>cd of, 181; Tibetan name of, 
and as.ierlions as to its origin, ihs; 
translation of Chinese extract .is to its 
source, 1,^3; its source and that of the 
Tage-lsang])o the same, 1M4, 1K8; ac- 
curacy of Chi Chao Nan's statements 
regarcJinK, lA^; Colonel Burrard on 
drainage area of, 187 

Tabie-tsaka, lake, salt-caravans from, ii, 
64, 333; location of the, 333; view of, 

Tagar, village of, i. 64 

Tage bup valley, ii. 105 

Tage tsangpo river, ii. 105, 107; measure- 
ments of, i2q; its source that of the 
Sutlej, 1H4, iSH 

Tagia Isering, thief of Sangge-ngamo-buk, 
visit from, ii. ^H.^ 

Tagrak tsangpo, river, i. a6i, 364 

Tagramoche district, bivouac in, ii. 105 

Takbur district, high-handed U-haviour of 
chief of, ii. 49, 50; abundance of game 
in, 50 

Takliur la p.tss, ii. 50 

Takkar, our Tibetan dog, ii. 305, 307, 
319; his antipathy to Tibetans, 333, 
377; devours wolf-cub, 399; returns to 
Poo, 418 

Takyung Lama, abbot of Mendong-gompa, 
ii. 315, 31.S 

Ta la, or "Horse Pass," view from, i. 378 

7'^ik,in, or roasted meal, i. 53 

T.imbak valley, ii. 84 

Tam( hdk kamba (lirahmaputra), river, i. 
,40,?. 4>7 

Tamluni; la p.' s, important watershed of, 

ii. 104, I2Q 

Tamluni; t~o, lake, ii. 104 

Tan.ik (black Horse) valley, camp in, i. 

aSfi, 40 ? 
Tanak |)Uihu valley, i. 286 
Tang Darin. See Chang Vin Tang 

Tangna, vill.ige of i. 417 

Tang yung province, Tibetan visitors from, 
i 313, 314 

Tang yung tsaka, lake, i. 308 

Tanku, or pictorial banker, i. 318 

Tankse, auxiliary horses hired from, i. 50, 
O7; camp ami rest at, 67; festivities in 
caravan at, bs, men from, petition to be 
allowed to return h(jme, 103; parting 
with my Ladakis at, ii 335 

Tankse, river, i. 67 

larbung-la pass, ii. 35 

Tarchen labrang, ii. 190, 108, 203 

Targo-gangri, view of the, ii. 30, 33, 381; 
glaciers uf, 35, 32; terraces of, 36, 30 

largo tsangpo, river, ii. 31; valley of, 33; 
our progress stopjK-d at the, 36 

Targot la pas-, ii. 30 

Targyaling gompa monastery, camp below, 
ii. 64; intolerant behaviour of lamas of, 
65; plundered by robbers, 315 

Tarmatse tso, lake, i. 314 

1 .irok [so, lake, position of, ii. 335; dc- 
s<ri^)ed, 391 

Tiirfiochr, or votive pole, i. 380 

Tarting choro, village of, i. 404 

Tarting gompa monastery, i. 383, 405; 
sepulchres of high priests of, 406; pre- 
parations for deceased lama's funeral 
pyre at, 407 ; reflections on monastic life, 

Tasam, or high-road station, ii. 41 

Ta-sang la pass, ii. 84 

Tashi, despatched to Shigatse, ii. 43; his 
return and adventures, 71 

Tashi gembc monastery, i. 318, 411; the 
two 'iilx'tan Bibles in, 413; temples of, 
413; incongruous Euroiiean figures in, 
413; prayer-cylinders in, 413; brilliant 
(olouring of, 414 

Tashi Lama, the increased prestige of, i. 
}°7- 3'3i Itindness to us at New Year 
Festival, 310; my visit to, 317; dress 
and general appearance of, 319; his 
kindly reception of author, 319; intel- 
ligence and shrewd questions of, 330, 
354; his pleasant recollections of Indian 
visit, 331; widespread power of, 333; 
previous visits of Kuroi>tans to, 333; 
attributes and functions of the Lialai 
Lama and, 323; favours granted to 
author by, 334; medicine chest pre- 
sented to, 335; ineflaceable impressions 
left by, 335, 35 ^; ceremonies observed 
on the approaching death of a, 337; 
methoci of chcxjsing his succes.sor, 327; 
mausoleums of previous Tashi Lamas, 
3:sc; record length of service of fir-^t, 
331; visit of third Tashi I^ma to Pekin, 
334; footprint of, 337; photograph taken 
of, 354; presents gifts to author, 355; 
rigidly prescribed life of, 356; his anxiety 
regarding author, 393; farewell greetings 
from, 403 
Tashi lunpo: New V'ear Festival in, i. 301- 
3i'i; a doLster town, 330; the Labrang, 
330; aeri.U street system in, 330; mauso 
ieums of earlier Tashi Laaus, 330-338, 

i^^. M^^m^kmmf^^^^Mm^^'mm^^ 





I • 

V ! 



(latr of fntindation, ,?3i; libran- of, ^u. 
T, i(,. tcm|ilc of 'r.^jng Kap.i, ,Vi5 ; ^ •"■»' "'' 
st.iir.av, vi;; ( tiilors in. ,ii^; 
rcliciou'* iiTcmonies witnessed, .U'"* 'f ■ 
graiic^ .ukI numlxTs of nionks. ,?si, }^i. 
Ix'lls of, iS'; i""~ ■""' pilgrims in, i- i, 
i^fy. author's iiitirviiw will) tliL 1 .i.-,lii 
Lama, .;5i; pilKrims' di-voiion il cxir- 
(isi-s in, U7; .sources of imomc, ,?!«; 
monks' lifi.- in, .?<;■<, ^''<>■, pray.r mills 
of -(fm; tea a favourite bcvcrai;c in, 
^i;',,," ji'ii, kill hi-n of, itit; the wallm« 
up of (irtaln monks, xh^; the IJi-na- 
IhakanK ti-mplf, .!''5; rnanufaiturc of 
imapes, 367; funtral customs, jOy; last 
visit to, VM 

Tayep parva la pass, ii. 307 

Tea, Tilx'tan, i. 247; nionk-s fondness tor, 
in Tashi lunpo, 3?o: enormous infusions 
of, 361 

Tea I»ts, rosllv, 1. ^>o 

Tehrran, Christmas 1905 spent in, 11. 24S 

'ivia mata la jiass, ii. ,V)7 

Telegrams lo British Prime Minister, i. \ 


Temixrature, sud<len rhanRC of, 1. 71;; 
records of low, I'^'i, 173, "Jli ^°7i 'v^' 
274; lowest recorded liy author in Asia, 
ii. J59 

Temple, lama, I. 4» 

Tnii;a, ril«tan coin, i 5f> 

Teri nam tso, "the heavenly lake," ii. 3S1 ; 
its salinity, 3S4; journey aloiiR southern 
shore, 3S4; dilTerent pronunciations, and 
meaning of the name, 3H4; extent of, 
and height atxive se.i level, 3.S4 

TerkunR-rung valley, caravan in, 
i. 370; importan.e of road through, 


Teta la pass, view from, ii. 3S0 

Th.ikkur Jai Chand, Garlok, ii. 107, 315. 
417; provisions and letters from, 144 

Thirteen, the number, prominence of, in 
author's journey, i. 20, J4T, »• ^Sf" 

Thirty d.ivs' storm, a, ii. 2X3 tt. 

'iilMtan (iovernment, the vindictive treat- 
ment of the Governor of Naktsang by, i. 
243, 251, 376; proclamation on retiral of 
British expedition, 245; author visited 
by two omci.d-s from, 375, 376; system 
of spies, 370; orders to author to leave 
the country, 3H8; increased stringency 
of, regarding Kuropeans, ii. 356 

TilHtan language, author's lessons in, ii. 

^" , ^ , ■ 

Tigu tans, dangerous roadway ot, 1. 4,^0 

I'ik/^e, mon.astery and village of, i. 61 ; camp 

at, 02 

Tini;-la pass, view from, ii. u 

i'irt.ipuri monastery, parting with followers 

at, ii. 416 

Titles, high-sounding, applied to author, 

"■ i<n 
Toa-n.idsum, at, 1. 262 
I'okcheii, the Gova of, ii. 107, no: cara- 
van reduced at, 107; valley of, no; 
eturn to, 400. departure from, 415 
To. jonsung, bivouac at, ii. 91 

Tokpas, Tibetan gold diggers, i. iSq 
Tomlis of the Tashi l.a.nas, i. 330-i.!'* 
ToiiL', the Gova of, i. 424 
I orig tso, bivouac on shore of the, 11. 30J 
longue, protrusion of the, lilK'tan saluta- 
tion, i. 240, 2H0, 42[) 

lo<jth, Mr. l.ucas, the la,st European seen 

hv author for two years, i. 71 
Toi'n'lius, Christmas song of the poet, 

([uoted, i. 2ig 
Tormakaru, mountain, i. 264 
'iorno shapko, unfriendliness of nomads at, 

' - ' 7 , . 

Totling eompa monastery, news from the 

outer world at, ii. 4"'' 

Tova tova, ili>tria of, i. 262 

Tradum, the Go.a of, ii. 60, 6g, 70, 73, 
.S3; camp at village of, 72; cxi ursion 
from, 73 .. ... 

Tradum gompa monastery, 11. 73; hermits 
dwelling at, 73 

Tranv Himalaya, the, author's first cross- 
ing of, i. 2'!"'; geographical and climatic 
imi«irt.iiue of, 27i, ii. 20, 3;; approach 
to main 1 rest of, 13; seiond crossing of, 
ig; third < rossing, 35; fourth an<l nfth 
(ros.^ings of, 200, 215; si-xth crossing, 
2)g; its unspoken continuance proved, 
j'^o; seventh and eighth crossings, 377, 
400; previous attempts to map out, and 
lKK)k.s treating of, 401-405; K.vder and 
\ViH)d'3 bearings of, 40.';; statement 
regarding vsall ma|« in Venice, 4oS<; 
previou,,lv unknown passes crossed by 
author, 400; length and breadth of, and 
average height of (asses, 410; gener^d 
coniiiarisiin of, with the Him.Uayan 
svstem, 410; author's rea-son for of 
name, 412; opinions for and against the 
title, 412, 413 „ „ . • J 

Trcatv, new, between Great Britain and 

Kus-ia, ii. 221 
Tree, miraculous, in Kum-bum monastery, 

' .''5 ... ... _ 

Tsa ehu tsangpo, river, junction with upper 

Brahmaputra, ii. 74 

Tsaktserkan, author's official attendant in 
Shigatse, i. ;o2, 353 

Tsalam nakta la pass, ii. 376 

'l'\amha, or parched meal, i. lit, 

Tsangpo (Upper Hrahmajiutra), river, i.